We Won't Fall
by MoonytheMarauder1
Summary: A collection of drabbles. Feel free to send a prompt! Latest: The hardest thing for Andromeda is letting her daughter go. / This time, Rodolphus was the worthless one. / Percy, Oliver, and Audrey share a moment before dinner. / Regulus hates watching Lucius leave. / Molly is there to make sure Harry knows he'll always be accepted, no matter who he loves. HarryCedricCho
1. Something Old, Something New

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Muggle History: Task 2: Alt: Write about someone mending clothes instead of buying new ones.**

 **Back to School September Event: 9. (object) school tie**

 **Word Count: 702**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Something Old, Something New**

The needle poked in and out of the fabric quickly, as if it was some shameful secret that kept getting pushed into the light. But Sirius wasn't watching it so much as the fingers skillfully controlling it. Littered with tiny scars, the slim fingers worked deftly, threading the material of the torn robe sleeve back together.

Sirius watched for a few more minutes, then spoke. "Remus, why don't you just buy some new ones?"

The boy glanced up, startled. His amber eyes were masking some hidden emotion that eleven-year-old Sirius Black couldn't decipher.

Remus laughed a bit nervously and tried to wave the question aside. "Why do that when I can fix it myself? That'd be a waste of money."

But James pulled him aside later that night and informed him that some people just didn't have the means to replace every torn bit of clothing, and that is wasn't something they liked to talk about. Sirius immediately felt guilty, but once he took notice of something… well, he couldn't unsee it.

He saw the frayed cuffs of Remus' shirt, the worn soles of his shoes, and where his ankles peeked out from under his too-short pant legs. He could tell the other boy was bothered by the state of his uniform— every tear was immediately stitched up, and he always made an effort to look as put-together as possible. Still, Remus held himself with a sort of quiet pride that Sirius admired; it was a pride that came from having to make the best of a situation, and coming out stronger because of it.

The stitches and patches were difficult to spot, but they were there; much like the mysterious scars etched onto the other boy's skin.

There was one article of clothing, however, that Remus could not patch up— his school tie. Remus had confided that it had been bought second-hand, as his father had been in Ravenclaw, and that it had already been in bad shape when the Lupins had purchased it. Its red and gold stripes had faded into dull colors barely recognizable as their originals, and it was fraying badly. Every morning, Sirius watched Remus carefully put it on, his movements quick but gentle, as though he were afraid it would break.

Because it was nearly impossible to hide the sorry state the tie was in, Remus did his best to keep as much of it hidden as possible— closing his robes up as high as he could, never adjusting it during class, and taking it off as soon as classes were over.

It always troubled Sirius. He felt that it was wrong for Remus to be so ashamed of the tie. Still, he understood Remus' reluctance to show it to the world; it was a bit like wearing a vulnerability where everyone could see.

Near Christmas, the seams of the tie finally began splitting. Remus tried desperately to repair it, but all the thread did was make it look even more hideous. Sirius witnessed his friend's shoulders slump, the defeated frown take over his face. Sirius' stormy eyes were worried as he watched his friend grow slowly more depressed, all because of the constant reminder of his family's financial status that he was forced to wear around his neck.

Sirius was determined to do something about it. Remus was the kindest person he'd ever met; he didn't deserve to be put down in any way, especially by himself.

Christmas rolled around, and Sirius anxiously waited while Remus opened his gifts. It wasn't much, what Sirius had given him. It had only cost a few galleons, and it would eventually wear, just like the old one. But when Remus opened the slim box and found the brand-new red and gold tie, the genuine grin that lit up his face told Sirius that he'd made the right decision.

Remus looked up at him, shyly beaming. "Sirius, you didn't have to—"

Sirius interrupted him. "I know you said getting new robes every time you tore them would be a waste of money… but mate, it's _Christmas_."

Remus opened his mouth to protest, but then thought better of it. "Well. Happy Christmas then, Sirius."

Sirius grinned widely. "Happy Christmas, Remus!"


	2. Together at Last

**A/N: Hey y'all! I wrote this back in August for Super Drabble Tag at Hogwarts. Thought I'd post it here. :) EdgarFabian apocalypse!au**

 **Word Count: 598**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Together at Last**

Edgar's hands trembled as his fingers fluttered over the broken helmet of his lover's radiation suit. As much as he wished otherwise, he knew there was nothing to be done— in a world where the air was poison, a crack in the helmet for any period of time was dangerous, but Fabian had been out there for hours. There was no saving him.

"You idiot," Edgar gasped, completely in shock. "I told you— I told you not to go after them—"

"They killed my brother," Fabian rasped. His voice was barely audible. "I couldn't just stand there and… and let them get away."

Edgar grabbed the other man's shoulders and pulled him into a sitting position, then propped Fabian up against his chest. "I have to get you back to the base," he muttered. "Don't be difficult."

Fabian laughed weakly, his skin pale and papery. "You know… you know it's too late for me. I can't be saved. Go… go back, go… go home."

Edgar wanted so badly to brush the damp strands of red hair off of his lover's forehead, but their protective gear was in the way. "My home is with you. Why did you— am I not enough?"

The words burned his tongue, but he had to know. If Fabian died and he hadn't asked, then the question would haunt him all his life.

Fabian's blue eyes widened slightly at the question, clouded though they were with pain. "That's not why— I love you. I really do. But just because the world's fallen to hell, doesn't mean the legal system should."

Edgar stared at him in disbelief. "Fabian. It's the _apocalypse._ We survived a nuclear war. And you're worried about the _legal system?"_

Fabian coughed, and Edgar was reminded that the man he loved could not come back from this. The base was too far away, even if there had been time to get him there. All he could do now was hold him.

Fabian looked indignant. "A life without justice would be a liv… a living hell. Not the small stuff, just… the big stuff. I don't want… I don't want to live in hell."

His breathing was getting slower, and Edgar knew that the ex-cop was struggling to get enough oxygen. The former professor's brown eyes found his lover's. The world was poisoned. Everything was either dead or dying, and soon the last decent thing in it would be gone as well. The human race couldn't come back from this. They had destroyed the earth in their hate, and with it everything Edgar had ever cared about. There would be no more popcorn and movie nights, no more late-night dates, no more sharing a bed. There wouldn't even be any arguments anymore. His mind drifted back to the base, where there would be clean air but no Fabian. His hands found the latch on his helmet.

"What are you doing?" Fabian asked in panic. "Edgar—"

"You really are an idiot," Edgar whispered with finality, "if you think you can just leave me in hell."

The other man's eyes looked surprised before his signature grin lit up his face. "One last kiss, then?"

Edgar laughed a bit deliriously, but still sure that he wasn't making a mistake. "The last? I'll see you in just a few minutes."

He pulled off his helmet, then tugged Fabian's off the rest of the way. Their lips connected, and though he could feel the radiation setting in, Edgar was happy. After this, there would be no more pain.

It could just be the two of them at last.


	3. A Little White Lie

**A/N Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. :)**

 **Potions Task 1: Write about someone compelled to tell the truth.**

 **Back to School: Cedric Diggory**

 **Word Count: 639**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **A Little White Lie**

Six-year-old Cedric Diggory stared at his sock-clad feet as his mother walked into the room. She was toweling her hair dry—she had just gotten out of the shower—and dread began to build in his stomach. He glanced guiltily at the broken vase on the floor. It was Mummy's favorite, he knew, and he wasn't supposed to run by it. He still had, though, and had accidentally knocked into the table it was sitting on. He'd tried to catch it, but he hadn't been quick enough.

 _I'll never be a Seeker,_ he thought in despair, _and now Mummy won't like me anymore._

He was desperate for some sort of magical solution, and he found it when he saw the Diggorys' new Crup skip into the room.

"Oh!" Mrs. Diggory gasped, halting on her way to the kitchen when she saw the mess. Her pretty blue eyes filled with tears, and Cedric shuffled his feet uncomfortably. He hadn't wanted to make her cry.

"Cedric," she began, turning to him. "Honey, did you see what happened to the vase?"

He debated on what to say for a split second before mumbling, "Diggy did it."

Diggy—the innocent little Crup—now had to endure the wrath of Mrs. Diggory. Cedric squeezed his eyes shut tight, readying himself for the explosion that was sure to come. When nothing happened after a few moments, he slowly opened his green eyes.

Mummy had her hands on her hips as she glared at Diggy. "Is that so?" she asked at last. "Well, Diggy, I'm not happy that you broke the house rules." She wagged her finger at the confused Crup. "It wasn't very nice of you. I'm so glad Cedric was here to _tell me the truth._ I'm afraid you'll have to stay outside today, until you can learn to control yourself."

She picked up Diggy, whose tail was still wagging, and began to carry him outside.

Cedric bounced on the balls of his feet, distressed at the turn things had taken. He didn't want Diggy to get in trouble!

The back of Mummy's shirt was wet from her dripping brown hair, and little Diggy kept trying to catch the water drops. The boy watched as Mummy opened the back door, ready to lock Diggy outside. Cedric recalled the day they had adopted the Crup. The first thing the little animal had done was dig up their backyard, which was something Cedric himself liked to do in his free time. They had become best mates instantly, and Cedric had affectionately named the Crup Diggy in remembrance of their first day together.

Finally, Cedric ran over to his mother, unable to condemn his innocent friend to a day of solitude. "Mummy! Mummy, Diggy didn't do it. I knocked it over." Tears welled up in the little boy's eyes. "I'm sorry, Mummy, it was an accident. And I'm sorry I blamed you, Diggy," he apologized to the Crup.

Mummy's lips twitched like they dd when she was about to smile, but then her mouth dipped into a frown. "We don't lie, Cedric. And you blamed Diggy—he almost got in trouble for something you did."

Cedric nodded sullenly, ashamed of himself. "I know," he whispered. He looked up at his mother earnestly. "I won't ever lie again, Mummy, I promise!"

Mummy set Diggy down, and the little Crup immediately began barking and hopping around. Cedric nervously asked, "Am I in trouble?"

Mummy ruffled his soft, brown hair. "No, I think you learned your lesson." She grabbed her wand off of the kitchen counter and waved it at the vase. " _Reparo._ See? Good as new. But don't do it again, understand? Some things can't be fixed so easily."

Cedric nodded again, glad that everything had worked out. From that day on, he never told another lie; no matter where the truth landed him.


	4. A Gift

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. :)**

 **History of Magic Task 2: Write about somebody with a magical illness.**

 **Back to School September Event: Sybill Trelawney**

 **Please note: I checked on Pottermore. Her name is spelled "Sybill". Just to avoid any confusion. :)**

 **Word Count: 580**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **A Gift**

Twelve-year-old Sybill Trelawney was standing with her ear pressed up against her parents' bedroom door. Her large glasses slid down her nose as she tried to make sense of what the muffled voices from within the room. She scrambled away when she heard footsteps approaching, composing herself just before the door opened.

Her mother, tired and worn, smiled fondly down at her. Sybill tilted her head to the side, silently asking the question she both wished for and feared the answer to. Sybill's mother's eyes watered, and the smile dropped from her face. She seemed to age ten years before her daughter's eyes.

"Sybill, love… it's time to say goodbye."

Sybill's stomach dropped at the whispered words. "No," she gasped, then louder, "No! Mum, he can't be—"

Mrs. Trelawney's shoulders shook, and her carefully constructed walls came crashing down. She engulfed her daughter in a hug, so crushing it was as though she was starved for human contact. "Love, I'm so sorry. But they can't… no one can save h-him."

Sybill felt the tears pooling in her large green eyes, and she roughly shoved her mother away. "He's not, he's not—" She ran into the bedroom and collapsed at her father's bedside. Some time ago he had contracted Dragon Pox, and Sybil and her Muggle mother had watched his body slowly succumb to the disease. Mr. Trelawney, once so proud and tall, was now a shadow of the man he'd once been; his fingers were thin, his skin pale with a green hue, and there was a tiredness in his brown eyes that seemed impossible to chase away. Still, despite his obvious fever, he smiled at his daughter when she came in.

"Dad," she mumbled, gripping his hand, uncaring that she was putting herself at risk. "Dad, Mum said—"

Mr. Trelawney lifted a shaking hand and clumsily pushed a strand of blonde hair away from her face. "Sybill," he rasped, not sounding at all like himself. "Sybill, I… I won't be long for this world; it's time to… to say goodbye."

Tears sprang into her eyes, and she ripped off her glasses and scrubbed furiously at her face. "Dad, no! No, you can't…"

His smile was strained, but as full as love as always. "You're my special girl," he whispered. "Just like your great-great grandmother."

A flare of hope erupted within her, despite the circumstance. "Really?"

He nodded slowly. "I've seen it," he whispered proudly. "You'll foretell… you'll foretell great things someday, Sybill."

She clutched his hand tightly, as though she could anchor his spirit to the earth herself. "But I want you to be there."

His eyelids were fluttering, and fear ate away at Sybill's insides. She heard her mother come up behind her, crying softly, but didn't turn around when she felt her hand on her shoulder. Her father tried once more to smile at them both.

"I know," he murmured, "and I will be. You just won't… you won't be able to see me."

"It's not the same!" Sybill protested. "Dad, it—"

He coughed violently, the pock marks on his face a hideous contrast to his green-tinted skin. "I love you," he croaked. "I love you both." He locked eyes with Sybill, and the young girl suddenly grasped her mother's hand, craving her touch. "Sybill, practice… practice your gift. You will do… great things. Great… things."

His chest fell, and it wasn't until Sybill's mother's knees gave out that she realized it wasn't going to rise again.


	5. Take a Stand

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. :)**

 **Women's History: Influential Queer Women Task 12: Write about someone undergoing a major change in their life.**

 **Back to School: Hogwarts library**

 **Note: This is based on that little bit of canon where Myrtle haunts Olive after her death—until Olive complains to the Ministry. Takes place just a few weeks after her death. Also, I believe that, while Myrtle can't touch anything, she can make objects move—which is what is happening here.**

 **Word Count: 700**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Take a Stand**

Myrtle Warren had never hated the library before. It used to be her sanctuary; now it just seemed to mock her. All around her, the students were pulling books off the shelves and flipping through them, chatting to each other and steering clear of her. She was just a weeping ghost to them; once it had become clear that she wouldn't talk about her death to anyone, they had all lost interest quickly.

As if dying hadn't been enough of a tragedy, now she had to watch everyone else have access to the only things that had comforted her during her life: books. She couldn't pick them up, turn the page, or move them in any way. It was infuriating. Her crying wasn't even the same; sobs could still wrack her body, but she was incapable of drawing breath. It was an odd sort of magic that she didn't appreciate, and it was days like this that she wished she had just walked towards that bright, terrifying light.

She didn't like being a ghost. She wanted to touch things; feel things. She wanted to be able to bump into someone in the halls, not just sail right through them. That bloody snake was the worst thing to ever happen to her, and Myrtle had been victim to many horrible things.

Rage bubbled up from within her. This was all Olive Hornby's fault—has she not bullied Myrtle so relentlessly that fateful day, Myrtle wouldn't be dead. She'd still be living. She'd have a future, a home, relationships. She'd always assumed that it was just a matter of time until she found someone to connect with—but how could you connect with someone when you coudn't even draw a breath?

This wasn't fair. _None of this_ was fair. Tears of frustration and anguish welled up in her dark eyes, and she bit her lip aggressively. Her body trembled, and she let out a whimper. She wouldn't cry. There was nothing that could be done to help her current situation; nothing could bring her back to life.

But she was _lonely._

A familiar voice reached her ears, and Myrtle stiffened.

"—I'm telling you, she's an absolute nightmare. She even makes an ugly ghost."

 _Olive Hornby._

Suddenly, Myrtle was flying across the library towards the other girl, a wind rippling from her that caused the book pages to flip violently as she passed—a power she'd investigate later. Her eyes glinted dangerously as she suddenly came to a stop in front of Olive, who backed up in alarm.

"Ooh, you never change, do you?" Myrtle cried angrily, the school robes she had died in billowing around her, blown by a nonexistent wind. "You stand there and insult me, when this is all your fault, you horrible _old cow!"_

Olive made a sound of protest, her pretty blue eyes cold. "Why, you—I didn't kill you!"

"No, you didn't," Myrtle wailed, "but you're the one who forced me into the bathroom where I was murdered! It should be you who can't touch anything, you who can't breathe—"

Olive gaped. Myrtle had never stood up to her before, but now that Olive posed no threat, there was nothing holding the former Ravenclaw back. They had the attention of the entire library now, and the librarian looked as though she were at a loss as to what she should do. Myrtle's chest swelled; finally, the attention she deserved.

"I don't know how many other people you've bullied, but you're going to regret ever opening your ugly mouth!" she continued, heart swelling when she realized that, for the first time, she had control over the situation. She was standing—floating—before Olive as an equal at _last_.

She couldn't bring herself back to life, and the things she loved would always be out of reach from now on. But she had control over what she did now—and if that was making Olive Hornby regret every terrible thing she'd ever said by haunting her for the rest of her life, well… at least she wasn't just mourning what she couldn't have.

She opened her mouth to argue again, ready to finally take her life back from her tormentors—even if it was in death.


	6. Winter Winds

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. :)**

 **Defense Against the Dark Arts Task 1: Write about somebody with a bad cold.**

 **Back to School: (scenario) visiting Hogsmeade**

 **Word Count: 750**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Winter Winds**

"I am _so sorry,"_ Astoria whispered, horrified. The wind blew her chestnut-brown hair around her face, which was burning from the cold air and embarrassment.

Draco frowned. "Why?"

Astoria brought her gloved fingers to her temple, kneading them against her pounding head. "This date was going so well, and now I—now— _achoo!"_

Draco jumped out of the way as Astoria doubled over from the force of her sneeze. He looked highly uncomfortable as he straightened his green coat. "Erm… bless you."

Astoria sniffed, humiliated. The two were standing outside of Honeydukes, halfway through their date, but Astoria couldn't stick it out anymore. She was miserable; it was cold, her head was killing her, and she couldn't stop coughing or sneezing. She didn't know what Draco must think of her, but she highly doubted that she'd made a good first impression.

When Draco Malfoy had first introduced himself to her, she'd been skeptical; he hadn't exactly been on the right side of the war. However, once she'd gotten to truly know him, she had realized that Draco Malfoy wasn't the same snobbish brat he'd been a few years prior. She suspected that the things he'd seen—the things he'd been forced to do—had opened his eyes to the true cruelty of his bigotry. After all, words hurt, but actions spoke louder.

So, when he'd asked her to accompany him to Hogsmeade, she'd agreed. The two year age difference didn't seem to bother him, and Astoria felt a sense of pride that he believed her to be mature enough to be around. The awful cold that had befallen her had come at the worst possible moment.

Tears pricked at her eyes. She wasn't normally one for tears, but the embarrassment combined with how terrible she was feeling was making her emotional. She glanced back up at Draco, bracing herself for the goodbye he was sure to give. His hands had found their way into his pockets, and her lower lip trembled. She hadn't meant to make him feel so awkward.

He put a hand on her shoulder and offered her a deep green handkerchief. She just blinked at it, uncomprehending. He cleared his throat, his blond hair blowing in front of his concerned eyes.

"Here. You should have told me you weren't well; we could have rescheduled."

She accepted the handkerchief glumly. "What difference would it— _achoo!"_ She caught the sneeze in the handkerchief this time, sniffed, then continued. "What difference would it make? If you can't stand to see me when I'm sick, then this just won't work, no matter how much we might want it to."

Draco's grey eyes widened in surprise. "That's not it," he insisted. "I'm not disgusted by you. I just don't want you to get worse. It _is_ snowing, after all."

Astoria's dark eyes peered up at him. "I didn't want to cancel the date. I was…" She trailed off, unwilling to admit that she'd been looking forward to that outing with him so much.

"I was excited too." He murmured it so quietly that she almost didn't catch it. She looked at him questioningly, and his eyes hardened with resolve. "Let's go to the Three Broomsticks," he suggested. "It's warm in there, and you'll be out of this wind."

He grabbed her hand and tugged her down the street, letting her lean against him—he even took off his green and silver scarf and wound it around her neck. They entered the bustling shop together, and Astoria smiled. She turned to thank Draco, but the smile had slipped off his own face. When she looked around, she saw why. The patrons of the pub were regarding him with open hostility, most glaring at his left forearm, even though it was covered.

Astoria knew what they were thinking, but she also knew that a real Death Eater wouldn't offer his date a handkerchief and brave a crowd simply because she had a cold.

Astoria squeezed his hand. "Let them stare," she whispered. "I'm happy to be here with y— _achoo!"_

She was mortified for all of two seconds before he began laughing. Grinning like she hadn't known he was able to, he guided her over to a secluded corner, thanks in his eyes. He was still above apologizing, she knew, but maybe with time, the chillier aspects of his personality would warm up, and the world could see what she knew was hidden beneath the surface.

Her head was pounding, she could hardly breathe, and her joints ached; still, Astoria smiled.


	7. Stars

**A/N: Hey y'all! I wrote this back in August for the drabble competition I mentioned previously. JamesRegulus stargazing.**

 **Word Count: 385**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Stars**

"This is ridiculous."

"Shh," James scolded lightly. "This will be fun, you'll see."

"James," Regulus said slowly. "I am not climbing on the roof of the Astronomy Tower with you."

James stuck his lip out. "Please?"

The youngest Black brother crossed his arms. "You're a great bloke, sure. But you're absolutely mental. This isn't just risky, it's _dangerous._ "

James stood on the ledge, secretly enjoying the way Regulus' grey eyes followed his movements worriedly. "I've done this loads of times. You won't fall. Besides, I have a surprise for you."

That did it. Regulus never could resist a surprise. He was very curious, and hated not knowing something. "Fine," he grumbled. "But if I slip and fall—"

"Your ghost will haunt me, got it," James interrupted impatiently. "Hurry up!"

The climb was slow going, but James didn't mind so much. He enjoyed the feeling of Regulus' soft hands in his own calloused ones, and the summer night was pleasantly warm. Finally they reached the top, and Regulus stood up cautiously, his arms out to the side as he tried to keep his balance. Having no such troubles, James walked a few steps forward and then plopped himself down, patting the roof next to him invitingly.

Regulus carefully trod over, and gingerly lowered himself down next to his boyfriend. James watched with a small smile on his face as the younger boy shifted into a more comfortable position. After a moment of silence, James realized that Regulus was waiting for him to reveal the surprise.

James grinned widely, waving his arms around. "Ta-da!"

Regulus looked around, a small frown on his face. "Er… the sky?"

"No. Well, sort of. The stars!" James waited anxiously for a reaction, and when he got none, he wilted disappointedly. "You don't like this, do you?"

Regulus looked at him curiously. "You brought me up here… to go stargazing?"

James' hazel eyes were troubled. "It was supposed to be romantic."

Regulus hurried to reassure him. "It is! It's just a bit…"

James sighed. "Cliche?"

"Well, yes," Regulus admitted. "But I was going to say unexpected. I didn't know we did stuff like this."

James opened his mouth to defend himself, but Regulus silenced him with a kiss.

"Don't apologize. I love it. Now shut up, we have some stars to watch."


	8. Night Terrors

**A/N: Hey y'all! I also wrote this one back in August. Neville/Hannah nightmare.**

 **Word Count: 521**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Night Terrors**

Whimpering woke her. Hannah opened her eyes blearily, heavy with sleep. Though disoriented, she could tell something was wrong. As soon as her brain began working again, she knew what it was. She rolled over in bed and hovered over Neville worriedly.

"Wake up," she whispered, juggling his shoulder softly. "Neville, love, it's just a dream. Wake up."

He didn't for several more minutes, and Hannah's unease increased. Finally his brown eyes flew open, momentarily terrified. Once he focused on his lover, however, his eyes cleared and some of the stress left his body.

"Hannah," he whispered hoarsely.

"It wasn't real," she said immediately. "Neville, you aren't there anymore."

Nearly a year had passed since the Battle of Hogwarts, but her boyfriend still had terrible nightmares of the final battle where they had lost so many. He'd lost friends, a favorite teacher, had nearly lost his life— though that wasn't what scared him the most. All the _Crucios_ he'd suffered through during the Death Eaters' reign over the castle had caused mental damage. Hannah and the Healers knew it was what was primarily causing the nightmares, but Neville feared that it had affected his mind, like the curse had his parents. What made it so frustrating for Hannah was that there was nothing she could do to help him.

Then he asked the same question he did every night, and just like always, it broke her heart. "What if I go crazy?"

She answered the same way she always did. "I'll still be here."

Tonight, though, he took the conversation one step further. "Why would you do that? How could you stand being with someone who might not recognize you in the morning?"

Hannah pushed her blonde hair out of her eyes as she considered the question. She knew that an easy answer like "I just will" would not put Neville's mind at rest.

She thought back on the boy who had been so timid in his first few years of school, always terrified of the professors. She thought about how he had grown into a more confident man, and then into the hero he had become at the Battle. But through it all, he had kept his kind heart and quiet strength.

She brushed back his brown hair, damp with sweat, and looked down at him lovingly. "I will stay because I know that you will come back to me. If you do not recognize me in the morning, then I will wait around until you do. You are stronger than you know, but you can't expect to rely entirely on yourself. I am here for you to lean on. That's the commitment I've made. And I know with the utmost certainty that you would do the same for me."

The tension drained out of Neville's shoulders, and the shadow of a smile ghosted across his lips. "You… you're right."

Hannah pressed a kiss to his temple. "Go back to sleep, love. The nightmares never come twice."

Neville closed his eyes and Hannah lowered herself back down. Just as she was drifting off, she heard his voice.

"I love you."


	9. A Rose and Its Thorns

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. Writing Club prompts are listed below. :)**

 **Back to School: (word) question**

 **Word Count: 747**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Thanks to Lucy for beta'ing!**

 **Enjoy!**

Nine-year-old Regulus Black stood in front of the door to his brother's room, his bare feet aching from the cold floor. A blanket was wrapped around his shoulders, and he lifted his small fist to knock on the door. Without waiting for an answer, Regulus entered the room, trying not to be intimidated by the shadows that decorated the walls. Regulus tiptoed towards the bed at the far side of the room, where his older brother slept huddled in the duvet.

Regulus gently shook his brother's shoulder. "Sirius," he whispered. "Sirius, wake up."

There was a muffled groan, and then Sirius' head poked above the duvet, his hair a mess and his eyes half-open. "Hmm? Reg, what're you doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep," Regulus admitted softly. "Can I come sleep with you?"

Seeing as all the beds in the house were much too large for one person, Sirius mumbled his consent. Regulus climbed over his brother and then snuggled in beside him. Sirius lowered his head back onto the pillow, but Regulus kept him awake.

"I have a question for you."

Sirius frowned grumpily. "What?"

Regulus looked at his brother carefully. "Why do you keep making Mother and Father angry? Don't you want them to be happy with you?"

Sirius' grey eyes, though Regulus could barely see them through the darkness, grew guarded. "Go back to sleep, Reg."

"But—"

"Go back to _sleep!"_

Regulus shrank away from his brother, eyes filling with tears. He just didn't understand it; Sirius seemed so angry with everyone lately. After a minute of sniffling, Sirius rolled back towards his younger brother, guilt written all over his face.

"Aw, don't cry, Reg. I'm sorry, I just… it's been a long day." Sirius sighed. "I guess… when you get older, you'll understand."

Regulus pouted. "That's not a good answer."

Sirius frowned, but this time it was because he was thinking. He reached over Regulus and grabbed the rose he had plucked from their mother's garden that hot summer evening, which had caused a shouting match. He plucked four of the petals off.

"This is you, me, Mother, and Father," he explained. He held up the rest of the rose. "This is the world we live in. Mother and Father think that we are the best, so live at the top of the world." Sirius placed two of the pale pink petals on top of the flower. "They think that everyone else—Muggles, Squibs, half-bloods—are the thorns in the world; that they can only make it an uglier, more painful place." Sirius pricked his finger on a thorn, drawing a pinprick of blood. "But the world needs balance," Sirius continued, "and the key to that is having both good and bad things in the world. Look," Sirius whispered, pulling off a thorn. "If we remove the Muggles, we'll hurt the world."

It was true; the flower had a raw spot on its stem; Regulus frowned. But Sirius wasn't done.

"You see, our parents think that the purebloods are the beautiful petals. But—" Sirius took the petals off the top of the flower; they were brown about the edges. "—their beauty is just an illusion. They still wilt, but the thorns protect until the flower dies."

Regulus looked at the torn apart flower; it just looked broken to him. "Mother says that Muggles aren't as good as wizards."

Sirius shook his head. "She's wrong. They're just as good."

Regulus scowled. "That's why you keep getting in trouble. You don't listen. Mother says they're disgusting."

Sirius' eyes flashed. "They're not! Our parents want to control every bit of our lives—they make us learn those stupid languages, and learn out of those disgusting pureblood books, and we can't get dirty or have fun—"

"Those things are fun," Regulus interrupted, reciting what he'd been taught his whole life.

Sirius fell silent. "I'm listening to them—mostly—for now. Once I get to Hogwarts… things will be different. I won't have to be their perfect son anymore."

Regulus frowned. "Don't you want to be a good son?"

Sirius looked his younger brother straight in the eye. "I want to be a good son to good parents."

Before Regulus could respond, Sirius had rolled over to face the other direction. "Good night, Regulus."

"But—"

"We can talk in the morning. Now, for the last time, go to sleep!"

Regulus burrowed under the duvet, but he couldn't sleep. He'd come here hoping for an answer to his question. Now, he had a million more.

 **A/N: Writing Club Prompts:**

 **Disney Challenge: (dialogue) "Now, for the last time, go to sleep!"**

 **Dark Lady's Diabolical Lair: Pureblood Traditions**

 **Showtime: All I Ask of You — (season) summer**

 **Amber's Attic: Speak because your voice is currency. And their comfort is not worth your silence.**

 **Lyric Alley: You play the game, though it's unfair**

 **Ami's Audio Admirations: The King of Keys — (word) key**

 **Angel's Arcade: Amy Rose — (object) roses, (color) pale pink, (trait) sweet**

 **Lo's Lowdown: Aang — (word) balance**

 **Film Festival: (plot point) siblings fighting**


	10. Poisonous Minds

**A/N: Hey, y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. :) The Writing Club prompts are listed below.**

 **Assignment 5: Arithmancy Task 1: Write about good and evil.**

 **Back to School: Rowena Ravenclaw**

 **Word Count: 750**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Thanks to Kyrie and Lucy for beta'ing.**

 **WARNINGS: Dark themes, allusion to death.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Poisonous Minds**

Rowena Ravenclaw had learned many things over the years. Books held the histories and mistakes of the people who came before; tradition held the skeletons of the ceremonies of their ancestors; her diadem was a well of wisdom, ready to grant some to its wearer. All these things Rowena treasured, and she held their lessons close to her heart. But it was people, she'd found, who taught the greatest of all truths. A single person could teach someone more than a thousand years of education.

Her daughter Helena had taught her the most. Namely, where the line between a thirst for knowledge and a thirst for power stood.

* * *

" _Helena—what are you doing with that?"_

 _Her daughter spun around guiltily, Rowena's diadem clutched tightly in her hands. "I only wanted to wear it for a second," she tried to assure her mother. "I only wanted to put it on for a second."_

 _Alarm bells went off in the back of Rowena's mind, but like any mother who had trouble finding fault in their child, she ignored them. "Helena, you know why you can't to that." Her voice was tired, having had this conversation before. "Put it back. In the wrong hands, it could lead to disastrous consequences."_

 _Helena's dark eyes clouded with anger. "I won't abuse its power."_

 _Rowena's own eyes, much like her daughter's, narrowed in warning. "Now, Helena. Don't make me tell you again."_

 _Helena put the headpiece down, but her eyes flashed with jealousy. She began to walk out of the room, but stopped in the doorway to turn back to her mother._

" _Do you really love me?" she whispered._

 _Rowena reeled back, horrified. "Of course I do," she gasped. "Helena, why—"_

" _Then why have you denied me this one wish? Why do you put my heart through such anguish?"_

 _Rowena stared at the young woman before her, her eyes hardening. "You don't know what you want," she admonished. "The lure of the diadem is too strong for you. You shouldn't be so desperate for answers that you compromise your morals."_

 _Helena chuckled darkly. "One cannot develop morals without knowledge's aid."_

 _Rowena shook her head. "Go."_

 _With a glare, Helena obeyed; Rowena followed her out, and after a moment's thought, locked the door behind her._

 _Weeks went by, and Helena became more and more consumed with her desire to claim the diadem as her own. On more than one occasion, she'd had to physically wrestle the crown from her daughter. It was terrifying to watch; Helena's eyes grew wilder each day, but Rowena kept telling herself that she wasn't too far gone to save. Logically, she knew that her affection for her daughter was blinding her to the truth of Helena's true intentions, but she couldn't quash her hope. Both women were too headstrong to talk about the issue seriously; neither wanted to risk being wrong._

 _Rowena had taken to sleeping with the diadem clasped in her hand, as an extra precaution. She knew the dangers of infinite wisdom—only someone who didn't desire to tap into such an overpowering well could wield the diadem successfully. If Helena tried to access all the diadem offered at once, then it could destroy her mind._

 _Rowena refused to believe it was already broken._

 _She settled down to sleep that night, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest. Many hours later, she was awoken by the sound of a door shutting. She blearily opened her eyes, black hair spilling around her. It took her a moment to realize what had happened; once she did, she leapt out of bed to look around her chambers and Hogwarts castle, to no avail._

 _Helena and the diadem were gone._

* * *

Rowena's health was failing; just an hour ago, she'd sent a young man after her daughter, desperate to see her before death came. There was a large inheritance waiting for Helena—a chest of emeralds and other jewels, and precious family heirlooms. It was a last-ditch effort to show her love, and she didn't know if it would work. She hadn't been sure of anything in a long time.

Breathing was a struggle now, but Rowena waited for her daughter. Her heart was screaming, but she couldn't believe that Helena was gone for good.

She'd learned to hate the human flaw of temptation. It had driven a wedge in her family; now her daughter could be lost to the evils of greed and jealousy.

Still, Rowena waited. Until at last, she could wait no more.

 **A/N: Writing Club Prompts:**

 **Character Appreciation:** **26\. [Plot point] Sneaking an item away/stealing something**

 **Disney Challenge: 3. Bagheera - Write about a stern character**

 **Book CLub: 9. Enzo: (dialogue) "Do you really love me?", (word) affection, (emotion) jealous**

 **Showtime: 8. All I Ask of You (Reprise) - (word) denied**

 **Ami's Audio Admirations: 14. Tap, Tap, Tap — Write about a strange sound at night**

 **Angel's Arcade: 3. Knuckles the Echidna: (plot point) guarding something, (object) emerald, (trait) headstrong**

 **Lo's Lowdown: 1. Good vs. Evil**


	11. Going Under

**A/N: Hey' y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. :) Writing Club prompts are below.**

 **Beauty Therapy Task 4: Write about someone entering a body of water.**

 **Back to School: (dialogue) "I'll speak to my mother. She'll know what to do."**

 **Thanks to Kyrie and Lucy for beta'ing!**

 **Word Count: 746**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Going Under**

"I'll speak to my mother. She'll know what to do."

In all her years of motherhood, Euphemia Potter had never heard those words. James had always been an independent boy, and hearing him say that now made her nervous; he'd always kept most of his private life hidden from her, like any teenager would. Why approach her now?

She tried to smile as her son led Sirius Black up the beach where they were vacationing. The waves crashed loudly against the shore, and Euphemia frowned when she saw the blank look in the boy's grey eyes.

"Mum," James murmured softly. "Sirius has something to talk to you about."

When Sirius had appeared on their doorstep in the middle of the night a week ago, suitcase in hand, there hadn't been a lot of explanation. Euphemia wanted to know what had happened to the boy, but at the same time, she wished Fleamont was there to help her through it. She looked at the sixteen-year-old expectantly, but he avoided her gaze.

After a moment, she said, "Sirius, love, why don't you come with me into the water? I'm going to burn horribly if I don't go in soon. We can talk there."

Sirius nodded, then followed her silently to the water's edge, James wisely staying behind. Euphemia shivered as the cold water lapped at her thighs, but she was satisfied now that no one else on the beach could overhear their conversation. She hoped that Sirius would be more willing to talk that way.

She was right. "Mrs. Potter—"

She didn't correct him, afraid to interrupt.

"I ran away," he blurted. "They… disowned me."

Blood rushed to Euphemia's head; how _dare_ those people hurt Sirius. She'd heard stories about what the Blacks did to wayward children—the idea that anyone would inflict such horrors on him… she couldn't bear to think. She was glad he'd escaped, even if it was shockingly sudden.

"She was angry," the boy continued. "She cursed at me and screamed; she burnt my name off of the family tapestry. I'm... not a good son. I've failed at being anything but—"

"No," she interrupted. "Love, you are _so_ amazing—despite everything they did. You've come out stronger. They are the monsters, not you."

"They wanted to hurt me," Sirius whispered. She could see the shame of such an admittance in his eyes, but it must have been too great a burden to keep in. "I just… I want them to love me. But that's impossible, isn't it?"

Saltwater splashed against Euphemia's face, disguising her tears. "Maybe for them, love. But not for me."

Sirius looked up at her sharply. She continued. "I already think of you as my son. And believe me, I know what it's like to be estranged from the family; Fleamont's mother was a Black. She had a difficult time adjusting."

Gentle winds blew her brown hair—which had once been red—into her face as she tucked a strand of hair behind Sirius' ear tenderly. "And don't worry about your mum—I'll have a word with her."

Sirius' eyes widened. "You don't have to do that."

Walburga Black was one of the most powerful witches Euphemia knew of. She was ruthless and extremely skilled. But she had hurt one of the boys Euphemia loved most in the world, and if they went head-to-head over him, Euphemia knew she would triumph.

She laughed softly. "Love, I'd go to the ends of the earth for you. This is nothing." She leaned over, the ends of her hair dragging in the water, and kissed his temple. "You're one of us now, and I'm honored to have you as a member of this family."

She knew his numbness—for he was obviously still in shock—wouldn't fade overnight; she just hoped he knew that no matter how afraid he was, the Potters would be there for him.

"Thank you," he said hoarsely. "I… thank you."

The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon; Euphemia put a hand on his shoulder. "Of course." She drew him close, nearly losing her footing on the ground and sending them both underwater. She laughed at her own clumsiness, then smirked at Sirius as she pulled away. With a flick of her wrist, she sent a small wave hurtling into his face. He was shocked for all of two seconds before he grinned and splashed her back; soon enough they had engaged in an all-out war, and neither mother nor son could stop smiling.

 **A/N: Writing Club Prompts:**

 **Character Appreciation: 16. (trait) Empathetic**

 **Disney Challenge: 6. King Louis - Write about someone who wants the impossible**

 **Dark Lady's Diabolical Lair: 17. Write about a powerful woman**

 **Book Club: Katherine Van Leuwen: (emotion) fear, (time) sundown, (word) numbness**

 **Showtime: 3. The Mirror - (word) triumph**

 **Amber's Attic: 6. "Failure is when you talk yourself out of becoming something amazing."**

 **Lyric Alley: 4. They're all the same, who can compare? (Taken as inspiration)**

 **Ami's Audio Admirations: 8. Black Feathers — Write about somebody escaping a monster**

 **Angel's Arcade: 5. Cream the Rabbit and Cheese — (word) soft, (action) laughing, (weather) gentle winds**

 **Lo's Lodown: 6. Zuko — (word) honour**

 **Bex's Basement: 1. Matilda — Write about someone finding another family when their own is useless**

 **Film Festival: 18. (plot point) unexpected news**


	12. To Fly

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. :) Writing Club prompts are listed below.**

 **Back to School: The Owlery**

 **Word Count: 728**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Thanks to Lucy and Ari for beta'ing!**

 **Enjoy!**

Peter Pettigrew sighed as he gently stroked the owl perched on his shoulder. Her brown, speckled feathers tickled his cheek, and her soft hooting made him feel a bit better.

School was not going well for the eleven-year-old. Classes were difficult, and he'd already been called a Squib by some of his crueler classmates. He'd taken to escaping to the Owlery when things became too much; owls listened, and they couldn't roll their eyes when they heard various complaints and problems, no matter how trivial. It was quiet there also. It was here that Peter could truly think—whether that was a good or bad thing depended on the day.

Peter gazed out of the window, trying to regain control of his breathing. He had run up here because the Slytherins had been tormenting him again; they liked to call him all sorts of nasty names, and it was seriously damaging his already low self-esteem.

Peter curled in on himself, dislodging the owl from his shoulder. He wanted to go home; no one liked him here, he was failing his classes, and he was _lonely_. He didn't know why he'd ever accepted the invitation here—he was practically a Squib.

He was ripped from his musings by the sound of footsteps. Someone was coming up, and Peter shrank against the wall, praying that it wasn't an older student who liked to pick on defenseless first years.

It wasn't. It was Remus Lupin who walked through the door, a boy Peter shared a dorm with.

Remus didn't see him. He was staring at the ground and clutching a letter tightly in his scarred fist. He was limping, and Peter really hoped that whatever bullying Remus was the victim of hadn't gotten physical.

Peter didn't know what possessed him to say it, but he did. "Hello."

Remus jerked around, his amber eyes meeting Peter's blue ones in panic. He calmed down slightly when he saw that it was Peter, but he still looked nervous.

Peter nodded to the letter in his hand. "Writing home?"

Remus hesitated, then nodded. He seemed even more reserved than Peter was, which gave Peter the confidence to keep talking.

"I saw some Slytherins push you down earlier," he admitted softly. "I tried to come help you pick your book up, but they shoved me, too."

It was the truth; the incident had occurred right after they'd left the dungeons after Potions.

Remus looked surprised. "I'm sorry," he told Peter sincerely."They shouldn't have."

And they talked. For hours, they sat in the Owlery, having conversations about mundane things. A small smile made its way to both of their faces, and Peter, for the first time since he had come to school, felt content. Here was a person who didn't care that he was awful in class, or that he wasn't terribly interesting. Remus was just happy to sit here with him.

After a while, Peter realized that it was getting rather late. He suddenly felt extremely idiotic; Remus had come up here for a reason and had probably only let Peter distract him to be nice.

"Oh," he mumbled. "Merlin, I'm sorry, I forgot—you came up here to mail a letter. I didn't… I didn't mean to get in your way."

Remus looked surprised, then glanced down at the letter in his hand, as though he'd forgotten about it. He frowned, the angle of his face and the light of the setting sun illuminating three long scars along his jaw. "I… I don't need to mail it."

Peter felt awful. "No, I'm sorry, go ahead. I didn't mean to distract you."

Remus shook his head hurriedly. "You didn't! I—I liked talking to you." His amber eyes regarded Peter shyly. "Did—did you like talking to me?"

Peter nodded, the knot in his stomach loosening for the first time in months. "Yeah. Of course I did. You're a great bloke."

Remus beamed. "So are you, Peter." Remus glanced down at the letter again and tore it up, letting the pieces fall to the ground. When Peter looked at him in confusion, he shrugged and said, "I don't need to mail it anymore."

The boys left, chatting happily, and the letter—covered in shaky words that insisted the sender didn't belong where he was and begged to be taken home immediately—lay on the floor of the Owlery in pieces, completely forgotten.

 **A/N: Writing Club Prompts:**

 **Disney Challenge: Friendship — Alt. Write about making your first friend**

 **Lyric Alley: There comes a time, in a short life**


	13. Written Promises

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. Writing Club prompts are listed below. :)**

 **Back to School: Desk**

 **Word Count: 641**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **A million thanks to Ari and Lucy for beta'ing!**

 **Enjoy!**

Draco sat alone in an abandoned classroom, pouring over one of his textbooks. He had come back to school to finish his seventh year after the war, and a part of him regretted that decision. He had never been popular among the other Houses, but no one had bothered him, except for Potter and his gang. Now their hatred was expressed openly, and the worst part was that he knew he deserved it. He'd taken to studying for his NEWTs away from the rest of the student body. It was better for everyone that way.

Draco stared down at the desk he was sitting at absently. It was covered with graffiti from over the past few decades—there were hastily scrawled names, declarations of love, and random words that were meant to cure boredom. Draco had never seen the point in vandalizing school property, but he'd seen his classmates do it often, usually when a lecture was lacking.

He didn't see his classmates much anymore; he typically avoided them. He'd been branded an outsider after the war—it was as though everyone was repaying him for every horrible thing he'd said or done to them since he arrived at school. Even some of the teachers regarded him with suspicion.

He was ripped from his musings by the sound of the door opening. He glanced up, his grey eyes wide, as the silhouette of a slim figure appeared in the doorway.

"Oh," Astoria Greengrass said with some surprise. "I thought this room was always empty."

"Not today," Draco said harshly.

Astoria laughed lightly. "Was that supposed to scare me? You're not some dark wizard."

"I used to work for one," Draco muttered bitterly, momentarily forgetting about his audience.

"Well, you are a little bit twisted," Astoria admitted. Draco tensed. "But then again, Malfoy, who isn't? The world isn't black and white."

This gave Draco pause. Everyone believed that the mark upon his skin confirmed that his soul was corrupted; Astoria seemed to believe that he had made a mistake. He murmured, "There are different shades of grey."

Astoria tilted her head to the side, her chestnut-brown hair falling over her shoulders. "Well, then pick. Are you a light-grey kind of person, or a dark-grey one?"

"What are you?" he challenged. "When you go outside and face the world, who do you decide to be?"

Her blue eyes surveyed him carefully. "I'm not looking for anyone's approval. I know who I am. In or out of a crowd, I'm the same person. Can you say that about yourself?"

She left the room, but she stayed in Draco's mind for a long time.

* * *

Six months passed, spent with whispered conversations in the hallways, quick smiles between classes, and then, much more recently, good-luck kisses in abandoned classrooms.

"I never thought," Draco murmured, his forehead against hers, "that I could love someone. After all I've done, I thought I was too… broken inside."

Astoria pulled back slightly. "You're only broken if you give up on glueing yourself back together."

"Poetic," Draco teased lightly.

Astoria shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Draco's heart fluttered at the sight; this sensation of being loved was new to him, and he was enjoying every second of it. She brought her lips to his own.

"Please don't leave me," he whispered, voicing a fear that had been haunting him, "unloved."

Astoria cupped his face in her hands, her face serious. "Never. For as long as you want me, I'll be here."

He kissed her softly. "I will _always_ want you."

Later that day, they scratched their initials into a desk. Draco understood now. It wasn't about boredom. It was about making a promise and setting a goal.

Their love would be etched in that wood for all to see, and Draco wouldn't have it any other way.

 **A/N: Writing Club Prompts:**

 **Dark Lady's Diabolical Lair: (dialogue) "You are a little bit twisted."**

 **Book Club: Adam — (plot point) standing up for yourself, (word) corrupted, (dialogue) "Please don't leave me unloved."**

 **Showtime: The Music of the Night — (word) sensation**

 **Amber's Attic: "Be with the one who makes you forget how terrified you are of falling in love."**

 **Lyric Alley: First you lose trust, then you get worried**

 **Lo's Lowdown: (dialogue) "I'm not looking for anyone's approval. I know who I am."**


	14. Out of the Crowd

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. Writing Club prompts are listed below. :)**

 **Back to School: Luna Lovegood**

 **Word Count: 524**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Enjoy!**

Luna smiled pleasantly as she descended the stairs from the dorms into the Ravenclaw common room. Her dark blonde hair was pinned up with her wand, and her favorite radish earrings hung from her earlobes. A copy of the latest edition of _The Quibbler_ was tucked under her arm, and her bare feet was cushioned by the soft carpet on the steps. It was a weekend, so she was free to wear whatever she wished; her Ravenclaw Housemates had long since grown used to her eccentricities—they didn't even stare anymore.

Luna hopped off the last step, the lavender beads hanging from her neck were swaying and bouncing with every step she took. She received many snickers as she passed, but she took no notice, her large, silvery-blue eyes sparkling happily as she made her way over to a group of fifth-year girls.

The fourteen-year-old tapped one of them on the shoulder, and the dark-haired girl turned around in surprise.

"Hello," Luna greeted serenely. "Michael Corner told me that you were interested to hear more about Heliopaths. You _are_ Padma Patil, aren't you?"

The girl blinked, her pretty dark eyes bewildered. "Well, yes, but—"

Luna beamed. "Well, Heliopaths have been featured in my father's magazine, it's a very informative article, really. Their skin is fire, and we believe that Fudge has an army he means to use as guardians for—"

"Luna," Padma interrupted half-apologetically, half-amusedly. "Luna, if Michael told you to come here, then he was just teasing you. I don't believe in Heliopaths. I'm sorry."

"Oh. But they do exist," she insisted. "You shouldn't be caught unawares when—"

"Yes, all right, thank you," Padma said dismissively. "Michael!" she called, peering over Luna's shoulder. "You git, I can't believe you did that."

Padma left Luna and her giggling friends and went to approach the brown-haired boy. He was grinning wildly.

"She's a riot, isn't she? Thought it would be a good joke."

Luna wilted slightly. This wasn't the first time something like this had happened; she just wished that she would be regarded with a bit more respect. She didn't want to be used as a practical joke.

Luna turned around, singing under her breath. There were Blibbering Humdingers about, and they fed off of negative emotions; they could, however, be repelled by a catchy tune.

That, and singing made her feel marginally better.

Luna twirled a strand of hair around her finger, trying to sing over the laughter ringing around her. She wandered back up to her dormitory, convincing herself that there was nothing wrong with the way she was. Ginny said so; her mother had always said so. Still, it wasn't easy to be the brunt of all the jokes in Ravenclaw Tower.

Luna pulled on her shoes, and then went to go find the Grey Lady. She was always interested to hear about the Lovegoods' theories.

She convinced herself, as always, that it didn't matter if everyone believed her, as long as a few, good people did. She had enough friends; she didn't need anyone else's approval.

Her soft voice filled the empty corridors, but was lost in the crowded common room.

 **A/N: Writing Club Prompts:**

 **Showtime: Phantom of the Opera — (action) singing**

 **Lyric Alley: You get excited**

 **Angel's Arcade: Blaze the Cat — (word) guardian, (color) lavender, (character) Padma Patil**


	15. For Just One Night

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. Writing Club prompts are listed below. :)**

 **Back to School: (word) exam**

 **Word Count: 501**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Enjoy!**

Percy ran a hand through his red hair agitatedly. NEWTs were steadily approaching, and the party that was being thrown in the common room below him was distracting him from studying for the exam. He loved his boyfriend, really he did, but he could be a bit… _eccentric_ when it came to Quidditch.

Speak of the devil. Percy looked up when the door opened, only to find Oliver Wood himself smiling excitedly at him.

"We won. Percy, we won the Cup!" Oliver danced over, his face glowing with pride, and Percy was struck for a sudden by how handsome he looked. He tried for a smile of his own.

"That's brilliant."

"Ah, Perce, don't be like that. You can put the books down for one night, can't you?"

Percy avoided Oliver's warm gaze, opting to instead bury his nose back in his textbook. "Exams are soon."

Oliver threw his hands out wide. "This is our last Quidditch win in our school careers! Don't tell me you're going to miss the celebrations just to study."

Percy shrugged. "You go have fun. Goodbye."

Oliver sat down next to his boyfriend, closing the textbook. "You're worried about the future."

Percy sighed. He was slightly annoyed at the distraction, but his partner was right. "You… you have your Quidditch. And while that won't last forever, at least it's guaranteed. If I don't perform well on NEWTs—"

"But you will," Oliver promised confidently. His light grey eyes appeared almost eager as they took in Percy. "I can see the future, you know. Clear as day."

Percy snorted. "Oh, really?"

Oliver nodded quickly. "You'll celebrate with me tonight—maybe even have a few beers—and we'll sleep in all morning. When we take our NEWTs, I'll do fine and you'll get all Os, because you studied so hard. Then I'll do my Quidditch thing, and you'll get a fancy job at the Ministry, and we'll buy a flat together. I'll play for years, but when I can't anymore, you'll still have your impressive reputation to keep us afloat. We'll be happy."

Percy hummed. "And how's that going to work?"

Oliver laughed, kissing his lover once more. "Just trust me."

Percy smiled, a bit more relaxed than he had been previously. "For some reason, I always do."

Oliver grinned widely. "Come on," he murmured, pulling Percy up. "We have a party to get to!" He looked at Percy eagerly, and the red-haired man rolled his eyes, but left his books behind.

"You sure are eager to get to that party, aren't you?"

Oliver shrugged. "Maybe I'm just eager to spend the night with you. Ever think of that?"

Percy had to admit—being with Oliver made him happy. His love of life was infectious, and Percy wanted to be there for every bump in the road, every shout of joy. If life was a mystery, then Oliver was the one he wanted to solve.

He could handle putting aside his studies for just one night.

 **A/N: Writing Club Prompts:**

 **Character Appreciation: Hermione — (era) Trio**

 **Disney Challenge: Bare Necessities — Write about someone enjoying life**

 **Book Club: Linus — (relationship) boyfriend, (action) smiling, (drink) beer**

 **Showtime: Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again — (word) goodbye**

 **Amber's Attic: "I swear that when our lips touch, I can taste the next sixty years of my life."**

 **Angel's Arcade: Silver the Hedgehog — (color) light grey, (trait) eager, (dialogue) "How's that going to work?" / "Just trust me."**


	16. Feud

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. Writing Club prompts are listed below. :)**

 **Back to School: Prefect/Head Boy/Quidditch Captain Badge**

 **Word Count: 641**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Enjoy!**

Ron Weasley took a sip of his butterbeer, a frown on his freckled face. Harry and Hermione were off doing who-knew-what, and he was left to explore Hogsmeade on his own. The fifth-year scowled at the badge gleaming on his chest. At first, he'd been shocked to receive it, then elated—but now all it did was remind him of Percy.

And Percy had left the family.

That was what Ron didn't understand; what could be so important about a job that you left your family behind? Why weren't they good enough? He couldn't figure it out, and Percy hadn't left any clues—except one.

The letter Percy had sent weighed heavily on his mind. He'd been congratulated on his success as a prefect, and warned away from his best friend. Worse still, he'd been encouraged to support that awful toad that was poisoning the hallways of Hogwarts—Percy may have been a prat, but Ron found it difficult to believe that anyone could honestly find Umbridge _delightful._

Ron ran a hand through his red hair, shaking his head slightly. He didn't want any of this—he didn't want to be estranged from his brother (boring though he may be), he didn't want to be put in this situation, and he wanted to feel like he actually deserved the badge on his chest.

"Stupid, bloody Percy," he grumbled.

"I'd really appreciate it if you wouldn't swear."

Ron whipped around in his seat, his blue eyes widening when he saw Percy himself make his way to his table. His older brother, looking extremely out of place in his expensive work robes, pulled out a chair and sat down. Ron gaped at him, making no move to break the silence.

"You didn't reply to my letter," Percy finally said.

Ron snorted, looking away and clutching his drink. "Wonder why."

"I'm trying to help you, Ron. You won't get anywhere in life if you carry on this way."

Ron glared at his older brother. "I'm not like you. Family, friends—they matter more than a payroll."

Percy's eyes widened a fraction. "Is that what you think this is all about? Money?"

"What else could it be?" Ron demanded. "We've always had everything else."

Percy was silent for a long moment before he spoke. "Dad isn't respected at the Ministry. I know you've seen it at school—the Weasleys are a bit of a joke to a lot of people."

"Not to the people that matter," Ron retorted moodily. "Not to Harry or Hermione."

Percy shook his head angrily. "You don't understand, and you're not willing to listen. I want to prove that the Weasleys aren't just the red-haired family who can't afford proper books. I want to finally be _respected!"_

Both Ron and Percy's ears were glowing red now, and Ron hated the little similarity between them; he was nothing like the git next to him. And yet, everyone kept telling him how much he was like the man. Their hot temper, their red ears, and now a prefect badge—Ron didn't want any of it.

"I don't want to be like you," he said angrily. "I don't need some stupid bigots to respect me. Can't you see what an insult that would be? And don't pretend like you enjoy their company—they're against Muggleborns, and you _dated one!_ Or have you already become so much like them that you've forgotten?"

Percy's mouth dropped open, but Ron didn't wait around to hear his response. He dug around his pockets and slammed some money down, then stood up, grabbing his drink, and walked away. Ron's face burned as he stormed past the shops of Hogsmeade, refusing to turn around to see if his brother had followed him.

He didn't need Percy. It didn't matter that he'd been the one to teach him chess, or help him with his homework over the summer. That wasn't his brother anymore. And he didn't want him to be.

No matter how many times he said it, he couldn't believe himself.

 **A/N: Writing Club Prompts:**

 **Book Club: Marty — (relationship) brothers, (trait) boring, (dialogue) "I'd really appreciate it if you wouldn't swear."**

 **Lyric Alley: You're going silent, the silent treatment**


	17. The Beginning

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. :)**

 **Back to School: (location) Trophy Room**

 **Word Count: 166**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Enjoy!**

Tom Marvolo Riddle stared at the silver plaque on the wall of the Trophy Room, his pale irises reflected on its shiny surface. This was the proof that he had made a contribution to the school; here was evidence that he had existed. Such a small thing, born of a lie, but everything to him. One day, the world would know his name. But for now, he'd have to be content with this small reward.

He dreamed of a world that he had purged; free of dirty blood with only the purest at the top. He'd make a world worthy of magic, a world where all wizards and witches could take their rightful place as superior.

He was willing to do absolutely anything to get there.

 _Tom Marvolo Riddle_. One day, his name would be carved in every wall, in every heart.

But for now, he could wait.

The tall young man left the Trophy Room, his back straight. This was the beginning of something great.


	18. Not a Prize

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. Writing Club prompts are listed below. :)**

 **Back to School: (dialogue) "I'm not sure she's your type." / "Any girl is my type."**

 **Word Count: 380**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those right go to JK Rowling.**

 **Enjoy!**

Ted Tonks frowned down at his cauldron. His brow was wrinkled with disgust, as he listened to the conversation going on behind him.

"—and the plan is to unite our families by the end of the year. Imagine! An Avery with a Black."

Ted gripped his wand tightly. It would not due to get into a fight in the middle of the dungeons—Slytherin territory. Still, to hear those brutes talking about Andromeda Black like she was some sort of prize to be one made his blood boil.

He'd liked her for ages, but he had yet to approach her. He thought of her pretty blue eyes, always shimmering with happiness, and her soft smile. And well, Ted may be Muggleborn, but he knew that that smile was magic. Those disgusting purebloods knew nothing of true magic.

He turned around in his chair, ready to defend the woman he believed deserved more than what the boys behind him would ever be willing to give her. "Actually, I don't think she's your type."

Avery paused to look at him in disbelief. "Any girl is my type, Mudblood."

Ted grinned sarcastically. "You misunderstand me. I meant that Andromeda Black is actually intelligent. She'd never go for a fool like you."

Really, he should have seen Avery's fist coming.

* * *

Ted woke up in the Hospital Wing, eye bruised and swollen; his pride even more so. He ran a hand through his dark hair before looking up—coming face-to-face with Andromeda.

"Erm," he stammered.

"I heard what you did for me," she murmured shyly. "I wanted to thank you."

Ted was distracted by her long dark hair. "Oh, it was nothing."

Andromeda paused, then laughed slightly. "Are you all right?"

He gulped. "Just a bit… embarrassed, if I'm telling the truth."

"Don't be!" she exclaimed with surprise. She tugged on her green robes self-consciously. "You—you're a beautiful person, inside and out Ted."

"You're prettier than I am, though," he blurted. His face immediately colored, and he wondered if he could pass this off as a symptom of a concussion.

But she was laughing. He didn't have the courage that night to truly talk to her like he wanted to, but they did talk; it was a start.

And maybe someday, it would blossom into something more.

 **A/N: Writing Club Prompts:**

 **Character Appreciation: Hermione: (restriction) main character must be Muggleborn**

 **Dark Lady's Diabolical Lair: (word) shimmering**

 **Showtime: Down Once More/Track Down the Murderer — (setting) dungeon**

 **Amber's Attic: "I'm learning that everything doesn't always come back to you the way you send it. Sometimes, love is more brick and less boomerang."**

 **Bex's Basement: Esio Trot — Alt. Write about someone pining for someone and not knowing how to ask them out on a date.**

 **Film Festival: (dialogue) "You're prettier than I am."**


	19. A Battle of Wills

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. Other prompts are listed below. :)**

 **Childcare Task 1: Write about a passionate embrace.**

 **Also: This is dedicated to lojosmom, who requested a Harry/Ginny reunion fic. So sorry it took so long, and hope you enjoy! :D**

 **Word Count: 949**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Enjoy!**

Harry ran his hands through his dark hair nervously. It was the day after the war had ended, and he was visiting the Weasleys at the Burrow. Normally he loved to be there, but today there was one person he wasn't quite ready to face.

"Harry. Can I talk to you?"

The question startled him out of his musings, and he froze in his seat at the Weasleys' kitchen table. The others carried on their conversations, though it was more muted than usual; there was one person at the table who was missing.

Harry swallowed, then nodded. "Of course." He stood up and pushed his chair in, then looked at Ginny, unsure what to do next. He'd wronged her so terribly in the past year that he was sure whatever conversation they would have would escalate into a one-sided shouting match.

Ginny tucked a strand of bright red hair behind her ear. She gestured towards the door that led to the garden. "We should…"

"Yeah…" Harry winced at his unenthusiastic response—he wanted to talk to her, but he feared what she would have to say to him; he feared he'd ruined their relationship for good.

They walked out into the garden, and then Ginny turned to him, her brown eyes sparkling in the moonlight. "Harry," she said harshly after a moment. "We have to talk about what happened."

Harry winced and rubbed the back of his neck. "Right. Ginny, listen, I can't… I can't apologize for breaking up with you because… well, I still believe it was right."

Her eyes flashed. "You didn't need to protect me, Harry. I wasn't afraid!"

"But I was!" Harry exclaimed. "You've never been targeted by him; I have. I didn't want him to use you to get to me."

Ginny crossed her arms. "You just don't get it. I know _why_ you did it—I just don't understand why you wouldn't let me take that risk with you. You took Ron and Hermione."

"Ron and Hermione had faced him before."

"Harry, he _possessed_ me! I know you want to protect me, but you can't call all the shots here." Ginny glared at him. "That's not fair."

"I did what I thought was best!" Harry defended. "Ginny, you don't understand—"

"Stop talking to me like I'm a child!" she hissed angrily. "I'm sick of everyone insisting that I can't understand what's going on, because I do. I knew the dangers. I knew how you felt. Why didn't you think I could handle it?"

How could he tell her how afraid he'd been of losing her? How could be possibly begin to describe how much he'd missed her, thought about her on that hard journey? The truth was, he feared that she was too angry with him to ever love him like she had a year ago.

"I knew you could handle it," he said slowly, his green eyes ashamed behind his glasses, "but I also knew that we could die at any moment. I couldn't have lived with myself if anything had happened to you."

Ginny plucked a leaf from a nearby bush and began tearing it to pieces. "I worried about you all year. The connection that we have is stronger than the ones I've felt with my other boyfriends… It was hard not knowing what was happening to you."

Harry felt extremely foolish as he said, "Are you really angry that I didn't bring you with me? You said you understood at his… funeral."

The fight seemed to drain right out of Ginny. "No," she admitted. "I guess I'm just scared that you don't love me as much as I love you."

Her confession surprised him; he hadn't considered that she feared the same thing. "That's why I did it; because I love you."

It was so odd, confessing his feelings to someone; he'd never felt this strongly for another person before, and it was at once liberating and terrifying. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his worn coat, then asked, "Is this something you think will last?"

Ginny stepped forward, close enough to Harry that he could count the freckles on her nose. "I'll never stop. Loving you, I mean."

He loved the fire in her eyes, her spirit; she was beautiful in every way to him, and her closeness was intoxicating. "I… yeah. That's how I feel."

"You didn't ask right away," she whispered, "if I wanted to try again. Is that because…?"

"I didn't think you'd want me to. I was… a bit of an idiot."

She laughed. "Lucky for you, I grew up with a bunch of boys; I'm used to idiots."

It happened all of a sudden; Harry lowered his head at the same moment Ginny threw her arms around his neck, and their lips brushed together. The kiss was short and sweet, but they didn't need anything more at the moment—their relationship was still healing. Instead, they held each other tightly for many minutes, their only company the flowers and garden gnomes.

There was a loud crash, and Harry and Ginny whipped around, still caught in each other's arms.

"Merlin," muttered Ron, his face as red as he hair, a broken cup at his feet. "Mum just wanted to let you know that dessert's ready… but I can tell her if you're busy."

Ginny rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face contradicted the annoyed action. "Tell her we'll be there in a minute." She tightened her grip on Harry, who happily returned the affection.

For the first time since the war had ended, he felt truly at home. He and Ginny still had a long way to go, but it was a start.

 **A/N: Prompts:**

 **Character Appreciation: 6. (word) defend**

 **Disney Challenge: Songs 5. Sally's Song — Alt. Write about someone thinking something will go wrong.**

 **Book Club: Aunty Siddra — (word) sick, (plot point) explaining something, (emotion) worried**

 **Showtime: 17. Cloud Serenade — (word) fool**

 **Amber's Attic: 14. Human Centipede — (word) connection (5 bonus points)**

 **Lyric Alley: 3. You're just like an angel**

 **Sophie's Shelf: 20. (dialogue) "Stop talking to me like I'm a child!"**

 **Emy's Emporium: 8. Alt. (quote) "You just don't get it."**

 **Angel's Arcade: 2. Orchid — (setting) a garden, (dialogue) "I'll never stop.", (word) harsh**

 **Film Festival: 8. (plot point) dropping and smashing a cup**

 **Autumn Funfair:**

 **Feel Box: (dialogue) "We should…" / "Yeah…"**

 **Gris-Gris Bag:**

 **(character) Ginny Weasley**


	20. In Spirit

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. Other prompts are listed below.**

 **So, this is just a quick Jily drabble… because I love them.**

 **Home Economics & Domestic Magic Task 11: Write about someone cheering on the sidelines. **

**Word Count: 595**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Enjoy!**

"That's my boy!" James shouted, pride in his voice. "Lily, that's our son!"

"Yes, James, I know," she called back, her red hair pulled back from her face. "I'm not sure why else we'd be at a Hogwarts Quidditch game except to see him."

James waved her comment aside, his hazel eyes bright with excitement as he watched the brooms fly overhead, half of them sporting players dressed in red and gold, and half in green and silver. His son was up there, playing his first match for the Quidditch Cup.

"He's a third-year, and already the best Seeker this school has ever known," James boasted proudly, even though Lily was the only one who could hear him.

She smiled, her green eyes sparkling prettily in the sunlight.

The crowd roared, and Lily and James, squashed in the stands, joined in. James did a little dance in celebration—Gryffindor was winning!

"You know," Lily mused, her eyes still locked onto one of the smaller players in the sky, "we're not supposed to be down here. Spirits aren't supposed to wander."

James shrugged, running a hand through his messy black hair. "Following's not really my style. You know that. A bunch of ancient old ghosts in the sky can't tell me not to watch my son's first match for the Quidditch Cup!"

Lily laced her hand through her husband's. No one else could see them—it was as if they weren't there. But they could see each other, and therefore they knew they were real. And that was enough.

"James," she whispered. James could tell that she felt out of place—she had never been a fan of large crowds, even when they were students themselves. The brightly-decorated stands full of half-empty bags of crisps and boxes of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans just weren't for her.

"Yeah?" he prompted when she fell silent.

Her gaze was still trained on the messy-haired boy above them, skillfully weaving between two Bludgers. "Do you think, when the war gets started again… that he'll have enough experience to play such a big role?"

James was silent for a moment, running the pad of his tan thumb over her creamy white knuckles. "I dunno, love. But he's proven already that he can come out of bad situations standing tall."

Lily closed her eyes. "My sister—"

"Hey." James pulled her close. "Listen, we can't change that. But we can let him know how much we love him."

He cupped his hands around his mouth, and though it was only Lily who could hear, he yelled, "Harry! I want you! I love you! Now catch that Snitch!"

Lily laughed outright, shoving his shoulder—but she joined in. "I love you Harry! You win this match and go celebrate!"

They continued shouting encouragement to their son, trying to forget the fact that it would make no difference in his life. They yelled their hearts out, watching their son as he made a great dive for the Snitch. Lily and James whooped on the sidelines as Harry held the captured Snitch above his head, clapping their hands together.

As Harry landed and was tackled by his teammates, James grinned at his son. A lot was riding on that boy's shoulders, but he had this moment to be a kid. And James knew that, whatever the world threw at him, Harry could pull through. He and Lily would always be there to cheer him on.

As he and his wife began to fade back into the afterlife, he whispered, "I've got your back, chosen one. Go save the world."

 **A/N: Prompts:**

 **Disney Challenge: Dialogue 2. "I've got your back, chosen one. Go save the world."**

 **Lizzy's Loft 10. Brizzy Voices — Alt. (trait) redhead**

 **Book Club: Kenya — (action) dancing, (food) bag of crisps/chips, (word) pretty**

 **Showtime: 12. Anakevka — (word) broom**

 **Amber's Attic: 3. Footloose — write about breaking rules**

 **Lyric Alley: 5. Don't tell me what to say**

 **Ami's Audio Admirations: 10. Petals to the Medal — write about a race or competition**

 **Emy's Emporium: 11. The changing of the leaves — (color) gold**

 **Angel's Arcade: 10. Tawna — (word) experience, (dialogue) "I want you.", (color) cream**

 **Lo's Lowdown: Characters 3. Jemma Simmons & Leo Fitz — write about two people who are inseparable.**

 **Bex's Basement: 6. The Avengers — (dialogue) "Following's not really my style."**

 **Fantastic Beasts:**

 **7\. Niffler — (word) gold; 79. Suriname — (character) Lily Potter**


	21. Breathe

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. Other prompts listed below. :)**

 **A little NevilleHermione third-year friendship for you guys. Just because. ;)**

 **Home Economics & Domestic Magic Task 12: Write about someone and their hobby**

 **Word Count: 1095**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Enjoy!**

"Hermione," Ron complained as the Gryffindor girl led him to the greenhouses. "Maybe he doesn't want company. Maybe he has a detention. Harry has to go to Quidditch practice soon—"

"Funny," Hermione quipped without looking over her shoulder. "The Dementors never bothered you before, Ron."

Ron's face turned as red as his hair. "I'm not—"

"Hermione," Harry interrupted tiredly, "what Ron's saying is that you're making a big deal over nothing. Neville comes down here all the time. And I don't know about you, but I don't much feel like testing the Dementors tonight."

Hermione looked at the black-haired boy and felt a twinge of sympathy. She knew he had just come back from a private lesson with their Defence teacher, in hopes that he could learn to repel the Dementors that affected him so. Still, she thought that they could be a bit more considerate. When she'd seen Neville alone in the greenhouses on the Marauders' Map, she'd known that they had to do something.

"If you two want to be this stubborn, fine," she snapped. "I'll help him myself."

Harry looked a bit torn, but Ron grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the castle. Hermione watched them go for a moment, then turned back to where she knew Neville to be.

She knocked on the greenhouse doors, then poked her head through, her brown eyes searching. "Neville?" she called.

There was a crash, and then a voice cried out, "Merlin's beard—er, is that you, Hermione?"

"Yes," she answered, entering the greenhouse. The warm air was a nice change from the crisp autumn air outside. She pushed away some large leaves on a plant she couldn't yet identify, and peered through the magical foliage until she spotted the brown-haired Gryffindor boy.

Neville tried to smile. "Hullo, Hermione. W-what brings you here?"

Hermione's eyebrows rose to her hairline when she caught sight of the green sap covering half of Neville's face. "I heard you were down here and wanted to know why you weren't in the castle. What…?"

"Oh," muttered Neville, touching his face with dirt-stained fingers. "Erm, _mimbulus mimbletonia._ You startled me when… when you came in…" Neville trailed off, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

Hermione grabbed a nearby cloth and tossed it to Neville, who caught it gratefully and began blotting the smelly goo—he obviously didn't want to spread it more over his shirt than it already was. His eyes flickered up to meet Hermione's serval times.

Finally, he answered her question. "I only came down here to—to think. I…" He ran his sticky hands through his hair nervously, and Hermione winced but didn't comment on the dirt and Stink Sap he left behind. "I've had a really long day," he finished lamely.

Neville went about watering and feeding the plants, and Hermione watched the small smile that took over his face as he did so. He really was a gifted Herbologist, though part of her knew that she was the only one of the two of them who could see it. When she caught his eye, she raised a brow, silently telling him that she knew there was something bothering him and that she wasn't going to drop it.

He looked down. "I think I'm failing Potions," he mumbled.

Ah. So that was it.

"Neville," she began, "I can help you in Potions. You don't have to hide out here—it isn't safe, anyway, with all the Dementors about. Come to the castle with me."

Neville shook his head. "We're safe here; nothing bad ever happens in the Herbology greenhouses." He smiled down at the plant he was replacing in a pot.

She watched him tend to the plants with gentle hands, then walked over to help him pick up the pieces of broken pottery on the floor. He affectionately placed the plant inside another pot, then went to sweep up the spilled dirt.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Do you come down here often?"

Neville nodded as he worked. "Yes, I do. It's… I enjoy it here."

She tilted her head. "How come?"

Neville glanced up at her, looking almost startled by the question. "I—I dunno. It's peaceful, I suppose. I help Professor Sprout with all of the plants we've learned about so far, and sometimes she shows me how to look after the fourth-year plants." His eyes sparkled with excitement. "It's… it's fun."

Hermione smiled kindly. "You're very good at Herbology, you know. It's no wonder Professor Sprout likes your help so much."

Neville turned a bit red and shook his head firmly. "No better than anyone else."

"That's not true," Hermione insisted, looking up at him.

Neville shrugged, avoiding her gaze. "No one else thinks that."

"Sometimes our strengths lie beneath the surface," Hermione said wisely. "Far beneath, in some cases. Just take Ron—he doesn't seem to think he's anything special, but he doesn't have to get top marks to be. It's his loyalty that makes him such a great person. And you're wonderful at Herbology, but you're also very kind, Neville."

Neville's eyes sparkled with something suspiciously close to mischief when she mentioned Ron, but he smiled after he heard the compliment.

"Thank you," he murmured.

Hermione beamed. "Of course!" She hesitated a moment and then asked, "Do you think you could teach me a bit more about the flowers we covered in class today? I'm still not quite sure how to handle them, and I want to get it right on the next exam."

Neville's round face lit up, and he began to explain to her the properties of the plant they had been studying in Herbology. As he talked, he watered and fed the plants, not looking twice at all the different protective gear he needed—he just seemed to know when he needed which. He moved with a grace that Hermione had never seen him exhibit before, and she was glad to see it. It was clear that he was in his element. She'd never realized just how much being in the greenhouses and tending to the plants calmed him.

He reminded her of herself sometimes, Neville. The feeling that he was lacking in something was an emotion she was very familiar with. She wanted to show him, as Harry and Ron had shown her, that he could overcome all his insecurities.

He continued explaining to her about the functions of the plant they were studying. His enthusiasm was contagious, and Hermione had always had a love for learning. The conversation lasted long into the evening, and neither one of them would have it any other way.

 **A/N: Prompts:**

 **Writing Club:**

 **Character Appreciation: 23. (house) Gryffindor**

 **Disney Challenge: Dialogue 1. "Sometimes our strengths lie beneath the surface… Far beneath, in some cases."**

 **Lizzy's Loft: 4. AmazingPhil — (setting) Herbology greenhouses**

 **Book Club: Maya — (character) Hermione Granger, (dialogue) "If you two want to be this stubborn, fine.", (color) silver**

 **Showtime: 11. Chava Ballet Sequence — (word) affectionate**

 **Amber's Attic: 8. Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure — write about someone worried about failing a class**

 **Lyric Alley: 8. Don't try to change me in any way**

 **Emy's Emporium: 10. The chill of the air on your cheeks — (word) crisp (bonus)**

 **Lo's Lowdown: Character 7. Danny Rand — Write about someone socially awkward**

 **Film Festival: 8. (dialogue) "I've had a really long day."; 17. (action) blotting a stain**

 **Fantastic Beasts:**

 **6\. Bowtruckle ‚— (word) leaf; 4. Andorra — write about someone feeling safe in a certain place**


	22. As Long As I Have You

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. Other prompts are listed below. :)**

 **Muggle Studies Task 3: Write about someone in physical pain.**

 **Word Count: 1175**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **For my sister, Grace, who loves DracoAstoria :)**

 **Enjoy!**

Draco Malfoy gazed through the doorway at his son's sleeping form. Thirteen was too young, he thought, to lose a parent—Scorpius hadn't even begun his third year at Hogwarts.

Scorpius' room was dark, with a stream of silver moonlight pouring through the window. The young boy's chest was rising and falling, and he looked much happier then he did when he was awake.

Draco ran a hand through his blond hair, turning away so his son could have some privacy. Part of him wanted to watch over his son, to protect him from the sorrow that had tainted their family, but the other half of him just wanted to stay away from the boy. Scorpius may share his father's features, but in nature he was very much his mother.

Draco walked into his own bedroom and shivered. Had it always been so cold? Or had he just never noticed how much Astoria warmed him?

But she had grown cold in this room. The last tendrils of life had left her body here, leaving him alone in a bed much too big, with a child much too good for him.

* * *

 _Her long, chestnut-brown hair was fanned out on the pillow, in sharp contrast with her pale face. She gently stroked the head of their son, who had fallen asleep against her. He wasn't a young child anymore, but the past few weeks had been much too stressful for him; both parents were glad he was finally resting._

" _He looks like you," Astoria murmured. "So handsome."_

 _Draco knelt beside her, taking her free hand in his. Their wedding rings sparkled in the dim light, and Draco swore to himself right then that he would never take his off. "Don't go," he begged selfishly. "Astoria, please. We need you."_

 _She smiled weakly. "Oh, Draco. You know it's my pleasure to please you, but with this… I can't, love. I'm so very, very tired."_

 _Draco reached over and took a potion vial off of the bedside table, the lime green liquid inside sloshing around. It was meant to help with her symptoms—the migraines and aches. "Drink your potion, Astoria. It will help—"_

 _She shook her head, wincing. "You know it won't. We knew it was only a matter of time before my family's blood curse caught up with me. My poor health is normal for us."_

" _There's no such thing as normal right now!" Draco hissed. "My wife is dying, my son is going to lose his mother—your death must not come."_

" _I must go," she whispered hoarsely. "You know this, Draco. There is no way I can stay. And up there… I will finally be free of this. Don't you want that for me?"_

 _He did. He wanted her to be happy more than anything. But he just couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that her safety could only come if she was away from him and Scorpius._

 _He pressed his lips gently against her forehead, then brushed some stray strands back. "I've done so many terrible things, Astoria," he whispered, his voice trembling. "You were my good influence. You made me a better man. Without you, who will I become?"_

 _Astoria squeezed his hand. "You'll stay the strong man you are. You won't abandon Scorpius."_

" _Do I look capable of making healthy life choices?" he asked her. "Astoria, I could drive him away. I only know what my father taught me, and we're raising our son very differently. If I lose you, I could lose him, too."_

" _I've held on for a long time," Astoria pointed out. "Draco, I love the both of you, and the last thing I want is to be separated from you. But today… today is the last day."_

 _Draco took a shuddering breath, his grey eyes pained. He lifted his wife gently and slid under her, so her head was resting against his chest. He held her close, their son still sleeping on her shoulder. "You're right," he murmured. "You've been fighting for a long time, and I'm so very grateful for the time you've won."_

 _She smirked up at him playfully. "You better be. It wasn't easy, you know."_

 _She had meant it as a joke, but his heart still seized up. "I know," he said seriously. "Merlin, I know. But you don't have to do that anymore. You'll be safe there… you can't get hurt there."_

 _She tilted her head up, her cold nose pressing briefly against his neck, then kissed his jaw softly. "I'll be watching over you. You can't get rid of me that easily."_

 _He bent his head down and kissed her properly, and pretended not to notice when she wiped his tear from her cheek._

 _They broke apart. Astoria was breathing heavily, and he knew it was only a matter of time. He woke his son up, and the boy pleaded just as he had._

" _Mum, Mum, please, don't go, Mum—"_

 _She held him tightly, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. "Darling, I have to. But I can't leave you fully. Watch out for your father, okay?"_

" _But—"_

" _I love you," she interrupted, her voice growing weaker. Her eyes locked onto Draco's. "I love you both."_

 _Scorpius bowed his head. "I love you too, Mum."_

 _Draco pulled his son close, his eyes on the woman in his lap. "I love you."_

 _Her chest fell. He watched, but it didn't rise again. She was free now, but he felt shackled to the earth. Scorpius' sobs sounded all around him, but all he could do was watch._

 _No one had ever told him how to raise a son alone. No one had ever taught him how to cure grief._

* * *

"Dad?"

Draco jumped, sitting up in bed. He'd been so lost in the past that he hadn't heard Scorpius approaching. "Yes, son?"

The young boy hesitated, biting his lip. "I couldn't sleep," he muttered at last.

Draco ran a hand over his face. "Neither can I," he admitted. "Scorpius, why don't… why don't you sleep here tonight? We could both use the company, I think."

He expected his son to refuse, claiming to be too old for such antics. He didn't hesitate, however—he climbed right in beside his father.

They were silent for a long time. "I miss her," Scorpius said suddenly. "I… I can't quite believe that she's gone."

"She's not," Draco whispered. "She promised that she'd watch over us, and that's what she's doing."

Scorpius' voice trembled. "Are you sure?"

Draco wrapped an arm around his son. "No force on this earth could stand up to your mother. She's got a fire about her that can't be quenched. She's watching, just you see."

Sooner than Draco had expected, Scorpius' breathing evened out. Draco soon followed him into the land of dreams, and the light of Astoria's smile kept him company throughout the night.

He wasn't sure if they could ever be as happy as they had been when Astoria had been alive, but he knew now that there was hope for them yet.

 **A/N: Prompts:**

 **Writing Club:**

 **Character Appreciation: 22. (trait) long hair**

 **Disney Challenge: Theme 4. Overcoming Hardship — Write about someone overcoming hardship**

 **Lizzy's Loft: 2. Jacksepticeye — (color) lime green**

 **Book Club: Lisa — (relationship) mother and child, (word) privacy, (dialogue) "There's no such thing as normal right now!", (emotion) worried, (genre) family**

 **Showtime: 10. Far From The Home I Love — (dialogue) "I must go."**

 **Amber's Attic: 5. Land Before Time — Write about a safe haven**

 **Lyric Alley: 15. I'm free and I love to be free**

 **Ami's Audio Admirations: 1. Magnus Burnsides — Alt. Write about a widow(er) (bonus)**

 **Emy's Emporium: 1. Snuggling in blankets — (theme) comfort**

 **Angel's Arcade: 6. Dr. N. Brio — (word) death, (dialogue) "It's my pleasure to please you.", (color) silver**

 **Lo's Lowdown: Quote 2. "Do I look capable of making healthy life choices?"**

 **Bex's Basement: 19. Avengers; Infinity War — Write about someone losing a battle (for life, in this case)**

 **Film Festival: 3. (object) wedding ring**

 **Fantastic Beasts:**

 **22\. Occamy — (word) silver; 7. Argentina — (character) Draco Malfoy**


	23. To Live

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. Prompts below. :)**

 **Word Count: 1114**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Enjoy!**

The white walls of the hospital were all blurring into each other, blinding against the jet black that was trying to overtake Arthur's vision. He felt disconnected, almost—separate from his body. After the initial agony, his senses had dulled into almost nothing; he wasn't entirely sure he was still alive.

The voices were all meshed together, too.

"Someone has to contact his family," he heard a Healer say.

"Oh, no dear, don't look!" Was that another Healer to her patient? He wasn't sure. Was the injury grotesque? There was a lot of red—he remembered that.

He was passing so many wards. The hallways seemed to stretch on forever.

Someone with a crazed smile on his face was running in front of Arthur and the team of Healers. Everyone was parting before them, and he was cackling like it was the best thing in the world. He glanced over his shoulder, making eye contact with Arthur.

"Don't you see? I'm like Merlin here."

The words struck a chord within Arthur. The image of two little boys claiming to be Merlin reincarnate to get out of trouble flashed before his eyes. They had been so young then, Fred and George.

They'd been born in this hospital.

* * *

" _Just wait a little longer, Arthur," Molly murmured, gazing at him fondly. "They'll be here soon."_

 _Arthur grinned and nodded. He still couldn't believe it; no matter how many times he was in this situation, the elation never dimmed. "Molly, we're going to be parents again."_

 _He put a hand on her swollen belly, and she placed her own hand on top of his. "Two more beautiful boys," she whispered happily. "I don't know how we ever got so lucky."_

 _Arthur laughed. "Well, it's the best lottery to win."_

 _Molly beamed at him. Her red hair was falling out of its bun, and her brown eyes were heavy with exhaustion. Arthur had been here before—he knew that she was ready to be finished with the pregnancy. He was so proud of her, though. The two of them had raised three lovely boys already, and now they were preparing to expand their family. If a man's wealth reflected the amount of love in his life, then Arthur knew he'd be the richest one alive._

 _He had to leave her in the sitting room as the day went on, but he frequently checked on her. He couldn't pretend that he wasn't anxious, and he could tell that Bill, Charlie, and Percy were also eagerly awaiting the newest additions to their family._

 _It wasn't until many hours later that Molly's breathing turned labored. The next thing Arthur knew, they were Floo'ing to St. Mungo's._

* * *

"Mr. Wealsey? Mr. Weasley, can you hear me?"

Arthur's eyes flickered open for a second, and he made a sort of moan in acknowledgement. He distantly heard someone screaming. He was taken into another blindingly white room, and someone he dimly recognized looked at him grimly.

"Hold on, Arthur, or Molly will kill us all."

He laughed weakly. Molly. His Molly. How silly to think a little snake bite could ever stand in the way of him seeing her. His laughter faded when he realized that was a very real possibility. He couldn't leave Molly; she needed him. He wanted to be there to see all his children grow up, maybe even to see grandchildren… to see how the boys' shop was getting on.

The Healers were leaning over him, and Arthur wondered absurdly if Molly had felt this claustrophobic when she was giving birth. The reward in her situation, however, was much sweeter than his would be.

* * *

 _If a grin could split a man's face in two, then Arthur was sure that his was in two halves on the floor. Molly looked absolutely knackered, but the glow in her eyes made her more beautiful than ever. He took her hand, being careful to balance George in his other arm._

" _Molly," he whispered, "They're perfect."_

 _Molly nodded happily, tears springing into her eyes. "My little boys," she cooed at them. "Oh, Arthur. I love them."_

 _Arthur leaned in and pressed a kiss against the sweat-dampened forehead of his wife. "So do I," he promised her, "and so will the boys."_

 _He handed her George, and she held him just as close as she was holding Fred. He smiled at the scene, taking in the serenity, before moving to the door to welcome in the other boys._

 _It was Percy who was most excited. The two-year-old practically ran into the room, closely followed by Charlie and Bill. He ran up to his mother, his eyes wide._

" _Can I hold them, Mummy?" he asked quietly._

 _She smiled softly at him, rubbing a spot of dirt off his nose. "Just one at a time, dear. Would you like to hold Fred or George?"_

 _Percy considered for a moment. "Er… George."_

" _I'll hold Fred, Mummy!" Charlie added enthusiastically._

 _Molly laughed, and Arthur took George from her so he could assist Percy. Once the little boy was safely seated in a nearby chair, Arthur placed the red-headed bundle in his arms. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bill dutifully hand Molly the thermos of hot chocolate she always requested after taxing ordeals such as this—with five marshmallows, one for each child in the family. When Molly noticed this, she shot him an amused grin._

" _Make sure you hold his head," Arthur instructed Percy, turning away from his wife. "He's only little, and we don't want it to fall."_

 _Percy nodded solemnly, then turned to his little brother with a wide smile on his lips._

 _Arthur kissed the little boy's forehead. "What do you think, Percy?"_

" _I like him," Percy declared._

 _Arthur chuckled. "I'm glad."_

 _He looked over his shoulder to see Molly watching Charlie hold Fred fondly. He could see that Bill was starting to get impatient, and suppressed a smile. This was his family. He'd never, in a million years, trade it for anything else._

* * *

As the Healers worked, Arthur did his best to stay conscious. He couldn't leave his family. They were everything to him. He couldn't miss out on the rest of their childhoods—their lives. He wanted to be there when Charlie scoffed at the idea of ever settling down, when Ron graduated Hogwarts, when Fred and George's business achieved new heights… when Percy came home.

He'd be okay, because he had to be.

He rested then, completely exhausted. He felt more solid now, but with this anchorage came the onslaught on pain. He pushed through it all though, as much as he could. Not for the war, or the Order. For his kids. For Molly.

For himself.

 **A/N: Prompts:**

 **Advent Calendar: Day 4: MollyArthur**

 **Writing Club:**

 **Disney Challenge: Characters 8. Mrs. Potts — Write about someone motherly**

 **Cookie's Cooking Corner: 6. Twix — Write about twins**

 **Showtime: 9. Voicemail #2 — (relationship) parents**

 **Count Your Buttons: Characters 3. Molly Weasley**

 **Em's Emporium: 5. Christmas Eve — Alt. (dialogue) "Just wait a little longer."**

 **Angel's Arcade: 10. Matt Miller — (dialogue) "Don't you see? I'm like God/Merlin here.", (color) jet black, (action) grinning**

 **Lo's Lowdown: Characters 2. Vex'ahlia — Write about twins**

 **Bex's Basement: 20. Write about George Weasley**

 **Film Festival: 8. (word) scoff, 10. Hot chocolate with marshmallows**


	24. Alone

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. Prompts are listed below. :)**

 **Word Count: 934**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **WARNINGS: Strong language and angst**

 **Enjoy!**

The sun was beating down on his back relentlessly, but Remus Lupin let his skin blister. He wasn't sure why he'd come to an African desert, of all places, but he hoped that he would be able to escape some of the ghosts plaguing him here.

He walked along aimlessly, shedding layer after layer of clothing. He was completely alone, which, even after nearly a year, was still jarring. James had never let him be alone before—neither had Lily, or Peter, or… him.

Sirius Black. He was someone Remus had trusted with more than just his own life—with the life of his family. Not only had he betrayed that trust, he'd pitted the others against Remus; he hadn't even known the Potters' location after they'd been placed beneath the Fidelius Charm.

Remus wiped the sweat from his brow, glad that the dampness was from something other than tears. He couldn't describe it, the pain he'd felt when he'd realized that trusting Sirius had been a fatal mistake—only that he'd rather undergo a million transformations alone than go through that again. Unfortunately, the pain hadn't left him; it had merely dulled into a heavy weight set across his chest and shoulders, one that kept him up at night and preoccupied during the day.

It had been worse, in London—every street corner held the ghosts of happier times, and he couldn't love an inch without hearing the familiar laughter of the dead.

James and Lily were gone. Peter was gone. Sirius had killed them, and now he was locked up. Harry had been taken someplace where Remus couldn't reach him, and now the werewolf was left to fend for himself in a world that didn't seem to have a place for him. He'd left London because of this—he knew that there must be someone in the world who could use his help.

He'd been to so many places thus far; Ireland, Wales, Ghana, Kenya, Morocco, and now the Sahara. He'd met many people on his journey, but none had prompted him to stay like he wished they would. His shoulders slumped as he considered the notion that there simply wasn't another place for him in the world.

Then, like they were wont to do, his thoughts drifted to little Harry. Albus had assured him that the boy would be safe, but Remus couldn't help but think he was the one best suited to look after the baby. He was the only one left alive who loved him, after all.

Remus stopped walking and slowly sank to the ground. The sand was hot around him, but he ignored his discomfort. His shoulders shook when he recalled those tiny hands and bright green eyes, looking up at him with more innocence than he'd thought the world possessed—he would pay any price to be able to see those eyes again.

It all came back to Sirius. His closest friend, turned enemy.

"Fuck you, Black," he whispered to the empty desert before him. He wanted to use his wand to curse the man into oblivion, but the verbalized cursing seemed an acceptable substitute. "And damn you for your lies. ' _Nobody tells me what to do, or where to go_ ', isn't that what you said? _Isn't that what you said?"_ he screamed suddenly. But Sirius wasn't there to hear his outburst; annoyance trickled through him at this thought. He didn't want his voice to go unheard a moment longer, but Sirius had taken away every last person who'd have listened.

"You swore that you were different from them!" Remus bellowed to the wind. "When we asked you why you were so determined to be apart from them, that's what you said. They were too controlling, you wanted to be free, _did we oppress you?"_ He was raving, he knew. He felt quite mad; he didn't care.

"Well, now you're locked away, trapped the way you never wanted to be! And you…" He voice dropped to almost a whisper. "You took every last part of me with you."

The world was silent. There didn't seem to be anyone alive but him in this wasteland. He was always the last one left. He lowered his head, closing his amber eyes. He felt completely drained; that had been the most emotionally taxing thing he'd done in a very long time. He didn't feel any better for it, though. He was trapped in this vicious cycle of anger and sadness, never able to escape it for even a moment. The only other thing he ever felt was the absence of any emotion at all.

He ran his hands through his brown hair, grains of sand getting stuck within the strands. He missed the cool fog of London.

He looked up. Maybe it wasn't London he was missing. Maybe it was just the little boy who lived nearby, who had most likely forgotten about him now, that kept pulling him towards the place that was stuffed full of painful memories.

He stood up. It would be painful, he realized, to live there again. But he couldn't let someone so important to him think that they were completely alone. The moment Harry needed him, he would be there. But in order to do that, he needed to go home.

He was determined to protect Harry from this pain, whatever the cost was. Perhaps this was his purpose—to preserve the last remaining piece of his world, so that that piece could make the world whole again.

No one was around to hear the _crack_ of Apparation, but it resounded in Remus Lupin's heart like the loudest of promises.

 **A/N: Prompts:**

 **Advent Calendar: Day 3: (emotion) trapped**

 **Writing Club:**

 **Disney Challenge: Characters 10. Fife — Write about someone realizing they're wrong too late.**

 **Cookie's Cooking Corner: 1. Mars — Alt. (setting) a scorching hot day**

 **Book Club: Liza Hempstock — (plot point) cursing someone, (emotion) sad, (dialogue) "Nobody tells me what to do, or where to go."**

 **Showtime: 4. Rent — pay**

 **Amber's Attic: Songs 1. California Love by Tupac — Write about someone's love for or connection to a certain place**

 **Lyric Alley: 10. Well the weather is cruel**

 **Liza's Loves: 8. Write about someone travelling**

 **Angel's Arcade: 9. Dex — (relationship) enemies, (emotion) annoyed, (trait) determined**


	25. What We Had

**A/N: Hey, y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. Advent Calendar Day 6 — (rare pairs) EdgarFabian**

 **Word Count: 521**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Enjoy!**

"You don't have to do this," Edgar told him. He walked over to his lover, placing his hand over the other man's. "This mission is more dangerous than the others—no one will hold it against you if you stay."

"I would hold it against myself," Fabian insisted. He ran his hands through his red hair, looking pleadingly at his lover. "I know this is hard, but Gideon insists on going. And who am I to leave my brother alone when so much is at stake?"

Edgar closed his eyes. "Fabian. You can't treat this war like a game. It doesn't depend on which cards you draw—everything is completely random."

Fabian stood up and wrapped his arms around the other man, hugging him tightly. He knew that this wasn't easy for Edgar. The Ravenclaw usually only took calculated risks. Fabian, on the other hand, liked to dive head-first into battle. He didn't feel right standing by if someone was fighting for him. It just wasn't in his nature. And though it was the source of a lot of fear for him, it was one of things Edgar loved about him.

"I know that the odds aren't good," he whispered, "but when have they ever been? Besides, we won't be the only two on the mission. And I can promise you right now that I'll do my best to come back to you."

Edgar didn't respond. He just grabbed Fabian's face and kissed him passionately, and soon the two had fallen back on Fabian's bed, wrapped in each other's arms. Though they would never say it out loud, they treated it like the last night on earth.

Both worried that their fears were well-founded.

* * *

The rain poured down heavily on Edgar's head, but he didn't make any move to stop it.

The funeral had ended an hour ago. Now he was left staring at the headstones of the two Prewett brothers, legendary in the Order's circle only. When the war was over—no matter which side came out victorious—no one would remember the two brave men who's been ambushed by five of their adversaries. It wasn't fair. Fabian, who'd loved his brother and sister with a fire unrivaled by any Edgar had seen before, would never see the light of day again. He was gone. Dead.

Nature seemed to know it.

How could the sun shine if Fabian was not there to bask in it? How could cool breezes blow if it wasn't Fabian's hair they were ruffling? How could life go on without the person who had made it worth living?

But it did. And Edgar must move on with it.

He touched the stone bearing his lover's name with wet fingers. He'd come back, of course. He couldn't leave this part of him behind.

"Fabian," he whispered, his voice lost in the rain, "I'll fight this war, I'll help them win it. There isn't a risk I wouldn't take for you."

He turned around then, walking slowly out of the cemetery. But he turned back, just once, unable to forget that there was someone he loved who couldn't walk out of here.


	26. For Right Now

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. Advent Calendar Day 8: (families) Longbottoms**

 **Word Count: 730**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Enjoy!**

Frank paced nervously outside the delivery room door. His couldn't believe that his mother had kicked him out.

In the next room, Alice was having their baby. Frank could hardly believe it. He was going to be a father. Excitement filled him, though he couldn't pretend that it wasn't accompanied by a bit of fear. He was confident enough in his ability to parent his son, but this was wartime—what if he couldn't care for his child properly?

But that was the miracle, wasn't it? This baby was proof that there could be happiness in even the darkest of times. Frank was determined to keep the sun burning, if only for his boy. Shadows would not consume Neville's life, not if he could help it.

The door opened, and his mother stood in the doorway, a tired but proud smile on her face. "The lad's here, Frank," she said. "You can come in now."

Frank ran into the room, his heart in his mouth. A peace he'd never felt before flooded over him when he spotted Alice in the bed, exhausted but smiling. She was in a fresh dressing gown, he noticed, and the orange candle light was reflected on her face. In her arms, Frank saw, was a small blue bundle. He rushed forward, the biggest grin he'd ever worn on his face.

Alice's dark eyes landed on him. "Frank," she said, "sorry we had to kick you out." A smile tugged at her lips. "You were a bit distracting."

Frank pouted playfully. "You say that, but you look pretty happy about the whole thing."

Alice laughed at him, and Frank couldn't help but join in. "Hey!" he protested jokingly. "I'm not done with you yet! Alice, you—you—"

He broke off when she continued laughing, then leaned over to kiss her cheek. "All right, I was being ridiculous. Now, can I see him?"

Alice pulled the blanket down a bit, revealing a red, slightly squashed face. It was the most beautiful thing Frank had ever seen. His hand shaking, he brushed a finger against the soft skin of Neville's cheek.

"Alice," he whispered. "He's perfect."

She nodded, biting back a sob. She was smiling so widely. "I know. Our Neville. Our sweet, lovely Neville."

Frank looked at his wife and son in awe. They were his family. The woman who had saved his life on the battlefield and off it was going to mother his child. He wiped the sweat from her forehead with his hand, then buried his fingers in her brown hair.

"I love you," he told her.

She pulled her gaze away from their son and leaned over to kiss him deeply. "I love you, too."

After Frank had held his son for a while, he passed the sleeping baby to his mother.

"Mum," he said, pride swelling up within him, "would you like to hold your grandson?"

Augusta Longbottom took the baby gently, which Frank marvelled at—his mother was rarely ever anything other than stern and no-nonsense. But she smiled as she looked at the baby, and Frank could have sworn he'd seen tears in her eyes.

As she bonded with Neville, Frank went back to join his wife. He climbed into bed with Alice, letting her rest her head against his shoulder.

A tear slid down her cheek. "I feel like," she began quietly, "the war can't touch us here. Because my baby is here, we can't be hurt."

Frank looked at her, brows raised. "Alice, you know that's not true." He didn't want to ruin this moment, but he couldn't allow Alice to fall into a false sense of security, not when they were in such a critical stage of the war.

She waved his concern aside. "I know, I know," she assured him. "But Neville won't be touched by this war. I'm determined to make it so."

Frank hesitated. "What if—"

She turned her head to kiss him, effectively silencing him. "We'll be okay. I'm not going to lose you."

Maybe he could be optimistic like her. When he looked back over to Neville, he could see what she meant. How could the world hurt a child as innocent as that?

He kissed her again. "We'll protect him."

The two Aurors turned their gazes back to their son. The war could wait; right now, it was their son who needed their attention.

 **A/N:**

 **Writing Club:**

 **Assorted Appreciation: 12. Write about someone telling someone how they feel**

 **Book Club: Yoshimine — (color) orange, (relationship) grandparent/grandchild, (dialogue) "You say that, but you look pretty happy about the whole thing."**

 **Showtime: 8. Blue — (color) blue**

 **Amber's Attic: 7. Black Canary — Write about a mother and her child (5 bonus points)**

 **Emy's Emporium: 7. Write about making the best of a situation**

 **Liza's Loves: 15. Write about someone crying**

 **Angel's Arcade: Characters 4. Harley Quinn — (dialogue) "I'm not done with you yet!"**

 **Lo's Lowdown: Characters 4. Mr. Peanutbutter — write about an optimist**

 **Bex's Basement: 4. Piano in the Dark by Brenda Russell — I cry just a little, when I think of letting go**

 **Film Festival: 10. (action) running; 27. (object) dressing gown**


	27. Deserted

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. Prompts below! :)**

 **Folklore Task 9: Write about someone making a deal they regret.**

 **Word Count: 1313**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Enjoy!**

Number 4 Privet Drive seemed unremarkable to everyone who passed by. The house was identical to all the others on the street, and the inhabitants didn't appear any different from their neighbors.

But Remus Lupin knew better.

He walked up and down the street, Disillusioned, hoping to catch a glimpse of the most extraordinary boy the world had ever seen. And it wasn't because he had survived the worst curse imaginable, it wasn't because he had saved the world—it was because he was Lily and James' son, Remus' nephew… He was the last person who could see Harry as the little boy he was, the last person who would think of the toddler before the Boy Who Lived.

Remus paused in his pacing and leaned against the fence encasing the house, his amber eyes glued on the door. Somewhere in that house, Harry was with his aunt and uncle, probably wondering where his parents were and when he could go home. How could he possibly understand that all he knew had been destroyed?

Would Petunia care for him like Lily would have Dudley? He'd met the woman once, but already had his suspicions that Harry's life would be very, very different here. And he didn't trust Vernon Dursley in the slightest.

Remus balled his hands into fists. He would have given Harry a good home. Maybe not a glamorous one, but he'd love him with all he had. Surely that had to count for something?

It wouldn't have mattered to James and Lily if their son grew up without the best broom model. It wouldn't have mattered if he only received a handful of gifts each holiday, if a friend had to watch Harry for most of the day while Remus worked, if sweets were a rare treat. But Albus, and everyone else he had spoken to, insisted that they would care if Remus had to miss meals, if Harry lived in an unclean neighborhood, if the little toddler were to meet him when the moon was full—

He shuddered violently at the thought, resisting the urge to be sick. It was too terrible to think about. It always came back to his lycanthropy, didn't it? No matter what he did or who he was with, it always came back to haunt him. Letting Harry go… maybe it was the same thing as giving him his best chance.

He'd promised Albus that he wouldn't barge in. Petunia didn't want any magical influence near her house, and Remus had agreed that as long as Harry was kept safe, he would honor her wishes. But he'd had to see Harry, just one last time.

The door wasn't opening, and Remus finally accepted that it wouldn't. His access to his nephew's life had been shut off, and frankly, that was nobody's fault but his own. He was the one who had missed the signs. He was the one who hadn't even been in the _country_ when James and Lily—

But it was no use thinking of that. What was done was done; he'd cherished them while they were here, and he'd cherish the memories he was left with. But his family was gone now, and it was selfish to wish that Harry could be taken from the one place that would keep him safe. He was the only thing of any importance in Privet Drive, and the only reason Remus would remember the street at all.

Harry wasn't coming out. He'd stalled long enough; Harry's life was separate from his now. As he walked slowly away, he told himself that this was for the best. Lily's blood could protect Harry, and as much as Remus wished otherwise, he just didn't have it.

Before he Apparated away, he glanced over his shoulder, heart heavy. It was the right thing to do. But he couldn't shake the feeling that he was abandoning the last bit of family he had left.

* * *

Eleven years later, Remus found himself in the Three Broomsticks, unsure as to how exactly he'd gotten there.

He took a sip of the cider in his hand, his mind whirling. He hadn't been able to stay away from the castle long lately. The past year had been hell. It wasn't even the usual hell of trying to pay rent and scrape together enough to move into a nicer flat—this was the hell of learning that the school his nephew was attending was overrun by a monster Petrifying students, and that the boy couldn't seem to _stay away_ from any of it.

He wanted so badly to address Harry directly, but he lost his right to do so when he entrusted him to Petunia and Vernon—that much he was sure of. A letter from a stranger was the last thing Harry needed.

He balled his hands into fists and shivered with self-disgust. The piano in the back room was playing a song Remus didn't recognize, and some men to his right were fooling around with the pool table Rosmerta had installed to show silent support for the Muggleborn students being victimized. He could hear it, he could see it—so why, after all these years, did he still feel dead inside?

"Remus Lupin," he snapped at himself curtly, "you are a fool."

He took another swig of his drink and winced at the burn. Trying to be near Harry was stupid. He couldn't protect him anymore. The one thing Lily and James had entrusted him with, he couldn't do. It hurt to know that. It hurt to remember how happy the Potter family had been, and to realize that he and Harry could have been just as happy, had he been just a bit wiser.

Why wisdom only came from experience, he'd never know. Why it was always him making the mistakes—well, that was a bigger mystery.

He lowered his head onto the table, screwing his eyes shut. His shoulders quaked as two pairs of laughing green eyes flooded his vision, a woman and baby filled with joy as a man with a crooked grin danced around them… Then a blond, slightly unsure man was clapping to the beat of the unheard music; a taller man with striking grey eyes was joining in on the dance, spinning his godson around the room; Remus was watching from the doorway, his heart warming at the sight. The people he loved most, all beautiful in their happiness. Untouched. Perfect.

Then James was on the ground, glasses askew and staring blankly above him. Dead.

Lily was sprawled on the floor, tear tracks still visible on her face. Dead.

Peter was just a finger, blue eyes and soft smile erased into oblivion. Dead.

Sirius was laughing at the carnage in front of him, suddenly a complete stranger. Traitor.

Harry… the bubbly baby, now a boy, was out of sight, locked away from Remus' reach. Alive.

And Remus himself was separate from it all, lost in memories that could never again be reality, having pushed away the last remnant of his life he had left. Alive, but then again, not.

If he could go back, would he change things? Would he fight harder for Harry, for his family? He knew the answer immediately.

Remus drained the last of his glass, then slammed it down on the table. It hadn't been worth it. When Albus had written him to inform him that Harry had arrived to school safely in his first year, there hadn't been any reassurances that the boy was as happy as Remus had hoped he would be. Which meant that the Dursleys had not been the guardians Dumbledore had been expecting.

He left a sickle on the table and left. Maybe one day he'd be able to start again with Harry, build back the family that they were always meant to be. But until then, he'd wouldn't forgive himself for destroying them both.

 **A/N:**

 **Writing Club:**

 **Assorted Appreciation: 15. Write about your favorite character appreciating something you do (family)**

 **Disney Challenge: Songs 1. The Bells of Notre Dame — alt. Write about someone abandoning a baby**

 **Book Club: Noriko — (relationship) aunt, (word) curt, (emotion) regret**

 **Showtime: 5. Big Fun — (drink) cider**

 **Amber's Attic: 1. Superman — Write about someone losing everything**

 **Liza's Loves: 8. Write about an important place to someone (and why it's important)**

 **Angel's Arcade: Playlists 3. Fallen by Jacob Plant — Write about someone feeling their lowest**

 **Lo's Lowdown: Characters 8. Penny — (theme) regret**

 **Bex's Basement: 15. After the Love Has Gone, by Brian McKnight — For a while, to love was all we could do**

 **Film Festival: 25. (object) pool table; 26. (object) piano**


	28. Tomorrow

**A/N: Hey y'all! Have a drabble :)**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Word Count: 301**

 **WARNINGS: angst, mentions of child abuse... I'll post a happier one in a few minutes**

 **Enjoy!**

Piers could hear them shouting. They voices fell and rose in pitch and volume, but one thing about their arguments never changed—they were arguing about him.

He was in bed, his head buried beneath the pillow. Tears stained his cheeks, but he couldn't stop his sobbing. The six-year-old shivered and shook, screwing his eyes shut tight. His father's words echoed in his head, repeating like a cruel mantra.

 _Worthless, disappointment, weak._

His mother wasn't screaming in his defense—she was blaming her husband for the way Piers had turned out. Piers recalled her shrieks, her thin, bony hand as it flew up into the air—

His cheek throbbed painfully at the memory. But it was his fault, his fault, everything was his fault. No one liked him. He was alone.

But he still dreamed, sometimes.

He dreamed that one day, someone with a kind smile would come and take him away, make him better. He would be so good, too, like he always tried to be. But this time it would work—his parents would be proud of him. They would hug and kiss him, and maybe they could go out for ice cream like the other children did. He would like that.

Consumed with these fantasies, Piers began to calm down. He could still hear his parents' shouts, but it seemed secondary now. He pulled the pillow off his head slightly, so one large, innocent eye could stare out the window at the setting sun.

Tomorrow. Maybe everything would be okay tomorrow.

It was this thought—this hope—that allowed him to drift off to sleep, dreaming of smiling parents and a life of laughter. Or maybe there would be somebody else there, to give him a new life, one where everyone was happy.

Piers smiled in his sleep. He couldn't wait for tomorrow.


	29. Tangled

**A/N: Hey y'all! Back with a happy one.**

 **Word Count: 514**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those right go to JK Rowling.**

 **Enjoy!**

James huffed in annoyance as he tied and untied the knot of his tie, brows furrowed in concentration. Seven years of wearing one as part of his uniform, and he still couldn't tie the thing properly. He regretted being so sloppy with his uniform now.

After several more minutes, James threw his hands up in frustration. His needed to be in the common room in twenty minutes, but his knot was no neater than it had been when he'd started. He knew that it didn't matter much in the grand scheme of things, but tonight was important. This was his chance to prove to Lily that she wasn't wrong to trust him with something as important as her feelings—this was his chance to turn years' worth of unrequited love into something more.

It was their first date.

He looked in the mirror unhappily for a moment, cringing at his crooked tie and messy hair that wouldn't lie flat. He looked like a mess, but then again, when didn't he? If Lily had asked him to go to Hogsmeade, it was because she liked him, messes and all. Or at least, that's what he told himself as he descended the stairs.

To his surprise, Lily was already waiting for him. He checked his watch in alarm, hoping that he hadn't lost track of time. Lily noticed and laughed a bit nervously.

"You're not late. I just wanted to get here early." She smiled gently at him, and he felt some of his nerves melt away. "You look nice, James. Oh, your tie's a bit crooked. Let me help."

She came over to him, reaching for the offending red article. James cleared his throat, hazel eyes refusing to meet her lovely green ones. "Couldn't get it right, actually. Sorry."

Maybe he shouldn't have been apologizing, but he wanted to prove to her that he was more than the Quidditch-playing, prank-pulling fool he'd acted like for most of their school career.

Lily smiled kindly again and began undoing his carefully constructed knot. "Oh, it's no problem. Ties are a bit tricky, aren't they? You've done a fair job here."

He stood stock still as she worked, half elated that she seemed to really be enjoying the time they were spending together and half terrified that she would bolt if he so much as breathed. Finally, after a few moments, Lily stepped back to admire her handiwork.

"There," she said, satisfied. She tucked a loose strand of red hair behind her ear. "Handsome as ever."

James blinked at the compliment and then grinned, his confidence returning. Lily blushed crimson when she realized what she'd said, but before she could take it back, James looped his arm through hers.

"And you're gorgeous as ever," he replied happily. "Now come on, before Rosmerta wrings my neck. I said we'd be there five minutes ago, and she won't hold that table for long."

Lily laughed, face still a bit pink, and James smiled. He let himself unwind for the first time that evening; everything would be fine. He could feel it.


	30. All That's Left

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts and the Houses Competition. Prompts are below. :)**

 **Houses Competition:**

 **House: Hufflepuff**

 **Year 1**

 **Category: Drabble**

 **Prompt: (setting) graveyard**

 **Word Count: 892**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Enjoy!**

It was too hot, Blaise thought. The funeral home was too hot and stuffy. He didn't want to be there anymore, but he couldn't leave—the funeral was for his stepfather, after all. His mother would be angry if he left early.

Blaise dragged his black-eyed gaze over to where his mother was sobbing into a handkerchief, putting on a show for the other mourners there. Feeling sick to his stomach, Blaise hurried over to the door and slipped outside into the cool evening air, breathing heavily. He didn't want to look at her right now.

He clenched his hands into fists. He needed to talk to someone, but who? The only person he felt able to confide in had been buried that morning. Blaise bit his lip, suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to see him again. He set off towards the graveyard, drawing his cloak more tightly around himself. He paused only when he reached the gate, struggling for a minute with rusted over, copper-colored gate.

Blaise wandered until he found his stepfather's grave, then fell to his knees before it. He stared helplessly at the name on the tombstone, wishing more than anything that he had been able to stop his ruthless mother from harming someone so good.

He hung his head. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

His head snapped up a few minutes later when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He stared into the face of Theodore Nott, whose family had been invited to attend the funeral, with surprise.

Theo lowered his head. "I'm sorry. I know… I know you liked him."

Blaise looked away, eyes burning and lips set into a thin line. That was an understatement. All of his mother's husbands had loved her, but Tristan Fawley had been the first to love Blaise. Even his own father hadn't cared to stick around. Tristan had been the only real parent he'd ever had.

"You know what she did," Blaise said stiffly. Theo was his closest friend, and the only person he'd ever confessed this secret to. "He didn't deserve to die this way."

Theo ran a pale hand through his dark hair, eyes heavy with sadness. "I know. But we can't change what happened."

Blaise's hands were shaking. "I should have told him what would happen. I should have made him leave…"

Theo's hand tightened on his shoulder. "There was nothing you could have done, Blaise. If you'd told anyone, she'd have… you'd be in danger, too. And that's not what Tristan would have wanted."

"He didn't want to be dead, either," snapped Blaise. "Why are you here, anyway?"

Theo didn't flinch under his glare. "I wanted to make sure you were okay. You're my friend."

Blaise didn't respond. He appreciated Theo's gesture, but he was too angry and hurt to handle the other boy's pity right then. "She didn't care that he loved her," he murmured at last. "She didn't care that I… that I…" He swallowed. "All she cares about is money."

Theo sat down beside Blaise. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an old, beat-up watch—Blaise recognized it as a coming-of-age watch. He expected to get one from his mother in two years, when he turned seventeen. Theo handed it to him.

"It's Tristan's," he told him softly. "I found it with the things they were getting ready to auction off. I thought you might want it. He'd have wanted you to have it, Blaise."

Blaise took it, turning it around in his hands for a minute. A lump was forming in his throat. He'd never seen Tristan with the watch on, but he could guess that this was the object his stepfather used to run his fingers over whenever he thought no one was looking.

" _It reminds me of my father," Tristan once admitted to him. "I don't like to put it on display, in case someone is tempted to steal it. It's too special."_

Blaise had only nodded then, but he understood what Tristan had meant now. Just holding the watch, something that had meant so much to his stepfather, made it feel like he wasn't as far away as he'd feared. Like a part of him lived on.

"He wouldn't blame you, you know," Theo murmured. "He wanted you to be safe. Once we're of age, we can take care of your mother. But right now… you just need to keep your head down."

Blaise's grip around the watch tightened. "You're right."

"Are you… okay?" Theo's asked tentatively.

Blaise closed his eyes. "No."

Theo nodded slowly. "Fair enough."

Blaise ran his hands through his short dark hair, chest tight with the grief he felt. The seed of despair his mother had planted after the demise of her first husband had grown into a tangled mess of thorns around his heart, and he could feel it piercing him with every passing second. Theo was right; revenge would come in time.

He ran his hand over Tristan's name, heart heavy. He had only memories, now. They would have to do.

Theo sat with him for the rest of the evening, for which Blaise was grateful. They stayed silent for hours, neither one willing to interrupt the peace.

"Thank you," Blaise said eventually. It was all he could say.

The clap on his shoulder told him that Theo understood.

 **A/N:**

 **Hogwarts' Writing Club:**

 **Assorted Appreciation: 10. Fridwulfa — Write about someone abandoned by a parent**

 **Disney Challenge: Themes 1. Betrayal — Write about being betrayed by a family member**

 **Showtime: 4. Come to the Fun Home — (setting) funeral home**

 **Amber's Attic: 11. Mary Anning — Write about discovering something old**

 **Em's Emporium: 6. Write about your favorite friendship**

 **Angel's Arcade: Agahnim — (genre) tragedy, (word) ruthless, (object) cloak**

 **Alphabetti Spaghetti: Theodore Nott**

 **Fortnightly Challenge:**

 **Sophie's Smut (Or Not): 12. Seed**

 **Birthday Bash: 15. Write about best friends**

 **Insane House Challenge: 188. (theme) grief**


	31. Spring Beauty

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Word Count: 794**

 **Enjoy!**

Hannah took a box of sugar quills off the shelf and checked the price, grinning with pleasure when she saw how cheap they were. They were her favorite Honeydukes' sweet, but she hadn't brought much money to spend at the village this weekend.

It was a lovely spring day; she was glad that she was able to spend it in Hogsmeade. Exams were steadily approaching, and Hannah needed all the peace she could get before she had to scramble to cram everything in last minute. It wasn't a perfect method of studying, she knew, but it seemed to work well enough for her. And, well, it wasn't like she'd ever claimed to be the perfect Hufflepuff.

Hannah gripped the purple box a bit tighter and made her way to the counter, weaving between excited customers and crowded aisles. Unfortunately, just as she was nearing her target, someone slammed into her from the left and she went down _hard_.

Cursing herself for not paying more attention—and her mysterious assailant—Hannah pushed her blonde hair out of her face and got to her knees. She was a bit bruised and battered, but nothing seemed to be damaged too badly.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?"

Hannah looked up to see Susan Bones, a Ravenclaw in her year, standing over her, looking concerned.

Hannah flushed. It was embarrassing enough to be caught in such a clumsy moment, but the fact that Susan had found her like this made it all the more humiliating. Susan was someone who Hannah had always tried to impress, because she was smart and kind, traits Hannah admired.

"Oh, nothing, really," she answered, trying to brush the concern off. She retrieved the (slightly squashed) box of sugar quills. "I was trying to pay for these, and I guess my feet got in my way."

She didn't say someone had run into her, because really, that would just sound like an excuse, wouldn't it?

The brunette smiled down at her, then bent down to help Hannah up and into a chair along the wall, ignoring the sixteen-year-old's protests. To distract Hannah from getting back up, Susan tapped the box with a pale finger. "Good choice. They are the best, you know."

Hannah giggled. "Wise words, from someone so young."

Susan grinned. "Yes, well. Age is a hell of a price to pay for wisdom. I'd rather know everything now."

Hannah laughed out loud. "Spoken like a true Ravenclaw!"

Susan nodded in agreement, but then her expression turned more serious. "You are all right, aren't you? I saw you fall."

Hannah glanced down at her boots, still slightly muddy from her trek from the castle. "I'm okay. It was an accident, really."

Susan hesitated, her blue eyes calculating. "You didn't trip."

It was a statement, not a question. Hannah sighed. "No," she admitted, "I didn't. Someone bumped into me, but I'm sure they didn't mean to."

Susan's eyes were fierce. "Wrong of them just to leave you. Are you sure… are you sure it was an accident? It's just… the political atmosphere…"

Hannah knew suddenly what Susan was getting at. As a halfblood, she was more likely to be subjected to discrimination than the purebloods, like the Bones family. Hannah shook her head firmly. "I don't think so."

Susan relaxed. "Good. I didn't want to have to hex someone."

Hannah smiled and glanced out of the window. It was starting to shower lightly, and she groaned. Spring showers, indeed. "We'd better go soon, or we'll be trapped by the rain," she said reluctantly. Hannah got to her feet, heading to the counter, but she spoke over her shoulder to let Susan know she hadn't dismissed her yet.

Susan followed her. After she paid, the Ravenclaw said, "Since we're here at Hogsmeade already, I was wondering… do you want to grab a butterbeer with me?"

Hannah looked over at her, green eyes wide. Her heart fluttered with hope. "Do you mean…?"

"As a date," Susan confirmed after a moment. "Well? Fancy it?"

Hannah grinned. "Definitely."

Susan beamed at her, and the two fell into companionable silence as they watched the rain, savoring the serenity before they would make the dash to the Three Broomsticks.

Hannah glanced over at Susan. She was a few inches taller than the other girl, so it was a bit hard to judge her expression by the angle, but she had a hunch that Susan wanted the same thing she did. She pushed away her nerves.

"I wish—"

"If you tell a wish, it won't come true," Susan interjected, eyebrow raised. Suddenly she grinned wolfishly. "You better show me what you want, instead."

She didn't need telling twice. Grinning, Hannah bent down to kiss her.

The flowers weren't the only thing blossoming that spring.

 **A/N:**

 **Hogwarts Auction: Sugar quill**

 **Writing Club:**

 **Disney Challenge: Dialogue 1. "If you tell a wish, it won't come true."**

 **Showtime: 5. That's Your Funeral — (word) expression**

 **Amber's Attic: 16. "Age is a hell of a price to pay for wisdom."**

 **Love in Motion: HannahSusan**

 **Liza's Lodes: 3. Write a fic in a setting you've never written before**

 **Angel's Arcade: 2. Chun-Li — (title) Spring Beauty,** **(word) fierce,** **(object) boots**

 **Bex's Basement: Clint Barton — 2. (color) purple**

 **Constellation Club: Lynx - HD 79858 - chair**

 **Insane House Challenge: 266. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"**


	32. More Than We Dreamed

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts and the Houses Competition. Prompts are below. :)**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Hogwarts:**

 **Transfiguration Task 3: Write about something happening at sunrise or sunset**

 **PLEASE NOTE: This is an AU where Voldemort never existed**

 **Houses Competition:**

 **House: Hufflepuff**

 **Year 1**

 **Category: Drabble**

 **Prompt: (food) toast on homemade bread. With good whipped butter and strawberry preserves**

 **Word Count: 1112 (under the 20% rule)**

 **Enjoy!**

Remus was awoken by the unpleasant sensation of cold fingers on his face. His amber eyes flew open, and he sat up on his elbows, glancing around until he found the pale face of his three-year-old son.

Remus frowned. "Teddy?" he whispered, in an attempt not to wake his two husbands snoring on either side of him. He needn't have worried, though; they slept like the dead. "What's wrong?"

Teddy squirmed uncomfortably. "I had a bad dream," he mumbled in that adorable voice of his. Then he looked up at Remus, his grey eyes just like Sirius'—even though he'd inherited them from Tonks, Sirius' cousin and their surrogate. "Can I have breakfast now?"

Remus glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Five am. The sun wasn't even up yet. But he knew that Teddy was like James—if something upset him, he wanted to eat. So Remus dragged himself out of bed and carried Teddy into the kitchen. He set the little boy down on a chair and smoothed his hair out of his eyes.

"Want to talk about it?" he asked softly as he went to take the leftover bread out of the refrigerator—James had made a loaf the previous day. It was the only thing he could bake without ruining, a fact that amused Remus and Sirius to no end.

Teddy hunched his shoulders. "It was really dark, and there were a lot of monsters."

Remus ran a hand through his son's hair, its shade of brown identical to his own. "I'm sorry, Teddy. But it's not real—it was only a dream."

Teddy nodded, but he didn't look convinced. Remus' heart ached for the pajama-clad boy. Their power was out due to a storm the previous night, which he knew had made Teddy anxious. There were a few candles. After a moment's thought, he used wandless magic to summon his wand from his bedroom. " _Lumos_ ," he mumbled once it was in his hand. He handed it to his son. "There you are. No monsters."

Teddy took the wand gratefully.

Remus smiled at him and began toasting some bread, then spread some whipped butter on the top. He glanced at the lightening sky; the sun was rising. He added some strawberry preserves to the meal and turned to his son. "Should we wait for the others? Or should we eat now?"

Teddy grinned at him. "Eat now!"

Remus checkled, having expected the answer. "Okay, okay. I just had to ask."

Remus set the breakfast down on the table and dug in along with Teddy. The sun was nearly completely above the horizon when Remus heard the clumsy stomping of his partners as they groggily walked into the kitchen, lacking all stealth and grace.

Sirius ruffled Teddy's (now turquoise) hair and dramatically lifted Remus' hand to his lips for a kiss, which earned him an eye roll.

"Sweetening me up for something, Black?" he asked, brows raised.

"Of course not," SIrius said with feigned innocence.

From behind them, James snorted. "Honesty is the best policy, Padfoot."

Sirius flicked his long black hair over his shoulder. "Honesty may be the best policy, but it's important to remember that apparently, by elimination, dishonesty is the second-best policy."

James and Remus both shot him disapproving looks, gesturing to Teddy. Sirius cleared his throat.

"Of course, the Lupin-Black-Potters only settle for the best," he finished sheepishly.

James shook his head, hazel eyes fond. "Here's your paper, Padfoot. Enjoy the crossword—and stop corrupting our child."

Sirius took it eagerly; his grey eyes narrowed in concentration as soon as he saw the first puzzle. James was kind enough to share the coffee he'd made with Remus, handing the werewolf a crimson red mug and keeping a mustard yellow one for himself.

James sat down beside him at the table and leaned over to kiss his scarred cheek. "Sirius wants to know if he can skip work to go to your fundraising event," he explained. The messy-haired man raised his wand. " _Accio._ "

The pencil Sirius had been using to fill out his crossword flew into James' hand, but the dog Animagus was so focused on his task he didn't notice until James waved it in front of his face. "Remus is about to answer your question."

Sirius' eyes darted over to the werewolf, brows slightly raised. Remus sighed. "If anyone asks, you skipped work without my permission. And you better make a contribution—I'm determined to raise enough money for that school."

His husbands both cheered, and Remus sighed fondly. They could both be a handful, but they were so supportive of his work. He didn't bring much money home, if any, but the two Aurors were able to recognize how important his work as an activist was not only to society, but to him.

The sun provided enough light to see by now, so Remus took his wand back from Teddy (who was finishing up his toast) and whispered, " _Nox._ "

James stole a slice of Remus' toast, and, ignoring his protests, went to grab his cloak. "We have to get to work, Sirius, if we want to ditch it later," he called. Then he turned to Remus. "We need to be in the office early today, but why were you two up?"

Remus popped a strawberry into his mouth. "Teddy had a nightmare," he explained.

Sirius scooped the little boy up in his arms, eliciting a giggle. "Bad luck, mate! But you're better now, aren't you? Daddy took good care of you?"

Teddy grinned and nodded. "Yes! He let me hold his wand."

Sirius grinned. "Well, you are lucky, aren't you?" Then he set his son down and, after checking his hair in the mirror on the wall, hurried to meet James outside. Remus heard them bantering as they walked to the Apparation point.

"Merlin, it's bright for six-thirty. And hot."

"Let the sun kiss your skin, darling Padfoot."

"Oh, shut up, Prongs."

Remus chuckled to himself and turned back to Teddy. "Are you feeling better?"

Teddy nodded, but started rubbing his eyes. He yawned, and Remus picked him up after placing their dishes in the sink. "Are you ready for a quick nap? You were up pretty early."

Teddy nodded again and buried his face in Remus' neck. The werewolf carried him back to his bedroom. Five years ago, when he and his husbands had been facing graduation, the furthest thing on his mind had been a little house in the suburbs with a child, but he wouldn't trade his life for the world. He'd treasure this paradise forever.

Remus kissed his son's forehead and shut the bedroom door behind him. It was time to let Teddy sleep.

 **A/N:**

 **Writing Club:**

 **Disney Challenge: Songs 2. Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo — Include at least three spells in your fic**

 **Showtime: 20. Finale — (word) share**

 **Amber's Attic: 10. "Honesty may be the best policy, but it's important to remember that apparently, by elimination, dishonesty is the second-best policy."**

 **Love in Motion: Triad - SiriusRemusJames**

 **Angel's Arcade: 6. Crimson Viper — (color) crimson, (word) stealth, (emotion) focused**

 **Bex's Basement: Stephen Strange 2. Cloak**

 **Seasonal Challenge:**

 **Days of the Year: March 23. Write about Sirius Black**

 **Spring: 21. "Let the sun kiss your skin, darling."**

 **Colors: 7. Turquoise**

 **Birthstones: 6. Turquoise — "I just had to ask."**

 **Flowers: 2. Daffodil — mirror**

 **Earth: 22. "Should we wait for the others?"**

 **Amanda's Challenge: Characters 9. Fred Andrews — Alt. Write about a father**

 **Hufflepuff Challenge: Characters 20. Teddy Lupin, Traits 4. Patient, Other prompts 1. Mustard yellow**

 **Star Chart: 13. June 21 — Innocence**

 **Fortnightly Challenge:**

 **Elizabeth Appreciation: 9. Elizabeth Grant — Alt. Write about someone involved with charity work**

 **Zoo Lover's Day: 2. Zebra — Write about someone wearing pajamas**

 **Constellation Club: Lynx - Alsciaukat — coffee**

 **Easter Funfair: Guess the Name: Characters James Potter - Bob**

 **Auction: Kiss on the hand**

 **Insane House Challenge: 59. Teddy Lupin**

 **365 Words: 1. Treasure**

 **Scavenger Hunt: 64. (genre) family**


	33. Crazy For You

**A/N: Hey, y'all. This was written for Hogwarts and the Houses Competition. Prompts are below. Also… thank Liza for this fic. She suggested it, and well. It had to happen. XD**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Word Count: 949**

 **Note: This is a Muggle/modern/teacher!au**

 **THC:**

 **House: Hufflepuff**

 **Year: Year 1**

 **Category: Drabble**

 **Prompt: Aggressively dancing with someone**

 **Enjoy!**

Remus stared at his boyfriend, brow raised. This was not how he'd expected first period to go.

"Sirius," he said slowly, "what are you doing?"

Handsome grey eyes sparkled with mischief. "What does it look like?"

Remus gripped the edge of his desk, acutely aware of his giggling students and the pictures they thought they were snapping discreetly. "Well… I'm still holding out hope that it's not what it looks like."

Sirius feigned hurt. "Remus, my love, I'm offended. Don't you _want_ to marry me?"

Remus rolled his amber eyes, unsuccessfully fighting down his growing irritation and the flush on his face. "I'm seriously not in the mood for this."

Sirius sighed in defeat and got to his feet, slipping the ring he'd been holding up to Remus back into the pocket of his leather jacket, which he wore over his button-down shirt and tie. "I'll wear you down eventually."

Remus straightened some of his papers in an attempt to appear unaffected. "Do me a solid," he deadpanned, "and go take a nap facedown in that dirt over there." He pointed out the window to the football field where Sirius had left the football team to warm up, unsupervised.

Sirius clicked his tongue. "You're a cruel man, Remus Lupin. But your sarcasm is as sharp as ever."

Remus' lips quirked into a smile. "That's what I'm here for. To deliver unpleasant news and witty one-liners."

Sirius deflated. "Unpleasant news?"

"Staff meeting this afternoon. Go coach your kids so I can teach mine."

Sirius grinned and bounced out the door like a dog would. "No need to get your knickers in a twist!"

When he was out the door, Remus cleared his throat. "Right. Open your books to chapter nine and let's get started."

There were some laughs and teasing, which Remus didn't usually mind—but this morning felt different. It wasn't the first fake proposal he'd received from his lover, but the further into their relationship they got, the more Remus found himself wishing they were real. A part of him was afraid they would only ever be a joke.

Remus sighed and grabbed some aspirin from his desk drawer, popping the tablets into his mouth to ward off his stress-induced headache. There were papers he needed to grade; he didn't have time to worry about his relationship.

His phone buzzed suddenly in his pocket; he jumped when he saw that it was a text from his mum. He glanced up at his students, all of whom were dutifully reading the chapter until they heard his phone, and cleared his throat. "I… I've got to go. Stay seated, please."

He dashed into the hallway, leaving the door slightly open. He quickly opened his texts, afraid there was a minor emergency that needed to be dealt with. What he found instead was a forwarded picture of Sirius kneeling in front of Remus' desk, holding up a ring. The caption across the bottom read, _Mr. Lupin-Black?_

Underneath was the text from his mother. _Is this real?!_

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. How he hated social media. It was _definitely_ time to pay his boyfriend back.

Sirius wasn't the only one who could turn his partner into a flustered mess.

* * *

Remus and Hannah Abbott, his student, stood outside Sirius' door the next week. Remus pushed up the sleeves of his shirt and loosened his rose quartz tie—which he'd chosen because he knew Sirius loved it.

"Remember, Hannah," he told the blonde-haired girl, "it's vital that you get a good shot of his face. I want to get him back for all those mid-class proposals."

Hannah laughed, dutifully holding up her phone. "Don't worry, Mr. Lupin. It'll be perfect."

She switched on AC/DC's _You Shook Me All Night Long_. Empowered by the music, he shimmied his way into the office, relishing the shock on Sirius' face. When Remus danced, he _danced_. It was aggressive and powerful, and Remus knew that Sirius was taken back to the first drink they shared together, when he'd surprised Sirius with these same moves.

It had the desired effect. Sirius bit his lip and tugged at his dark hair as he watched, entranced. Had he not been so coordinated, Remus would have knocked over several objects on his partner's desk as he moved steadily closer. When the song finished, Remus grinned wickedly at his lover.

Sirius cleared his throat. "Right. Yes. You win. Now tell Abbott to turn that blasted thing off."

Remus laughed. "Thank you, Hannah. I'll take it from here."

He heard her giggle and exit the room, but his eyes remained trained on Sirius. "You should know by now that I always get even."

Sirius tilted his head. "Maybe I enjoy being surprised by you."

Remus rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his tawny, grey-streaked hair. "So. No more fake proposals? Mum can't take much more of them."

Sirius grinned. "No more fake proposals. I just hope this doesn't ruin our friendship, if you say no, I mean."

Remus' smile wavered. "Sirius?"

Sirius took his hand and pulled out a small box with his other. "No more fake proposals… but how do you feel about a real one?"

Remus' heart pounded in his chest. "Really?"

"Yeah." Sirius grinned. "I'm crazy about you. It's always been about you, and it always will be. What do you say?"

"...I say hurry up and put the ring on."

Sirius barked out a laugh. "How about we get a drink this evening to celebrate? You can show off that dancing again." He waggled his eyebrows.

Remus kissed him chastely. "It's a date. And Sirius?"

"Yeah?"

Remus smiled softly. "I'm crazy about you, too."

 **A/N:**

 **Writing Club:**

 **Assorted Appreciation: 7. Klaus Augenthaler — Write about a footballer**

 **Disney Challenge: Characters 5. Shan Yu — alt. Write about someone relentless**

 **Book Club: Leon — (object) aspirin, (emotion) stressed, (dialogue) "I… I've got to go."**

 **Showtime: 8. You Love Who You Love — (genre) romance**

 **Amber's Attic: 6. (pairing type) slash (5 bonus points)**

 **Liza's Lodes: 6. One Direction - What Makes You Beautiful — "The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed." (inspiration)**

 **Angel's Arcade: 3. Alistair — (dialogue) "That's what I'm here for. To deliver unpleasant news and witty one-liners.", (trait) dedicated, (color) grey**

 **Lo's Lowdown: 4. (trait) loyal**

 **Bex's Basement: 3. "What are you doing?" / "What does it look like?" / "Well… I'm still holding out hope that it's not what it looks like."**

 **Film Festival: 30. "I just hope this doesn't ruin our friendship."**

 **Seasonal Challenges:**

 **Days of the Year: May 6th — Write about asking someone out for a drink**

 **Spring: 6. (word) growing**

 **Colors: 6. Rose quartz**

 **Birthstones 5. Moonstones: "Do me a solid and go take a nap face down in that dirt over there."**

 **Amanda's Challenge: Pairings 9. Buffy/Spike — alt. Feature a leather jacket in your fic**

 **Hufflepuff Challenge: Characters 18. Hannah Abbott**

 **Fortnightly Challenge:**

 **Space Mom: 7. Write about someone who hates something popular**

 **Capcom Lives: 2. Felicia — (trait) energetic**

 **Magic Kingdom: Meet and Greet: 3. Donald Duck — (emotion) irritation**

 **Gym: Pomfrey: Dialogue 3. "I am seriously not in the mood for this."**

 **365 Words: 131. Handsome**

 **Insane House Challenge: 276. SiriusRemus**


	34. Breaking

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for the HPFC Pairing the Character Competition.**

 **Pairing: TheoHarry**

 **Word Count: 500**

 **Warnings: Little bit of language**

 **Enjoy!**

"Listen, Theo… we need to talk."

Theodore Nott stiffened upon hearing those words leave his lover's lips. He knew nothing good ever came from them. Still, he stuck a smile on his face and turned around, dark brown eyes meeting green. "Yes?"

Harry Potter sighed heavily and ran a hand through his black hair, more determined than ever to defy gravity today. "I can't do this anymore, Theo. I can't."

Theo's blood turned to ice. "Harry…"

"No." Harry's voice was sad and firm; Theo knew then and there that his battle was lost. "No, Theo. I understand why you don't want to come out—hell, I can handle keeping our relationship a secret for that reason. But putting up a front with a woman?" Harry flinched, and Theo felt a stab of guilt for causing his lover so much pain. "I love you, Theo, but I'm not going to watch you kiss her just to keep the public happy. I'm _not._ "

Theo took a step forward. His apartment felt larger; he felt the absence of Harry even though he hadn't left yet. "I don't love her," he whispered harshly. "Harry, I don't. This is just… my family would never understand if—"

Harry was already shaking his head. "If we're doing this, it has to be just us. I won't be your dirty little secret—is marriage even in the cards? How far were you planning on taking this?"

Theo had nothing to say. Truthfully, he hadn't planned this at all. The war was over, but the opinions of others still weighed heavily on him. Harry had been ridiculed before, even if he was now regarded with the utmost respect—Theo couldn't handle that possibility. It was much easier this way, keeping Harry tucked away while he publically loved the girl, let his family think he was fulfilling their expectations...

Harry had been their enemy. He stood for everything the Nott family was against. Theo didn't have a clue what they would think of his sexuality, but his choice in partners would definitely disappoint.

Harry was able to look past what others thought of him, but the fear of being hated consumed Theo's every waking moment. He knew what he had to do.

He took two steps forward and lifted his chin to catch Harry's lips in a quick, chaste kiss—the last one, he was sure, they'd ever share.

"Just go, then," he said. He turned away, dark strands of hair falling in front of his face, hiding the pain in his eyes. "Go."

Harry hesitated, as though realizing that they were over, and how much that _hurt_. "I guess I should have expected this." His voice was raw with betrayal, and Theo hated himself for being that cause of it.

"I'm not the brave one," he murmured. "You are."

Harry turned away and began walking towards the door. "But you could have been."

Theo had no answer to that. He heard the door shut and tried to pretend that his heart wasn't breaking.


	35. We'll Make It

**This was written for the HPFC and Hogwarts :)**

 **HPFC:**

 **(character) Frank Longbottom, (dialogue) "I'm basically useless.", (genre) hurt/comfort**

 **Word Count: 597**

 **Enjoy!**

"I'm basically useless."

Alice stopped when she heard those words coming from her husband's mouth, nearly dropping the washing in the sink. She used her soapy hands to brush the hair out of her eyes, and if they left suds in her dark locks, she didn't care. She slowly turned to face the man she loved, her hands on her hips.

"Say that again, Frank Longbottom," she commanded quietly, "and make me believe it."

His eyes met hers. "I'm basically useless."

Alice snorted. "I don't believe that for a second."

Frank set down his briefcase and leaned against the kitchen wall. His brown eyes were unusually dull, and his face was pale. "You don't have to believe it, Alice, but it's the truth."

She glanced at the Auror insignia on his robes. "Bad day at the office?"

Frank shrugged, avoiding her gaze. "I bet they wish it was my day off and not yours."

"Shut up," she told him, but she lacked any real bite to her words. "No one thinks that." Alice threw the dishcloth still clenched in one fist over the tap and made her way over to her husband. She took his face in both of her wet hands. "What makes you think that?"

Frank stared at her for a long moment before dropping his gaze. "There was a raid. Death Eaters." Alice felt her heart stop. "We didn't get there in time. No casualties, but some people got hurt."

Alice stared at him for a long moment, torn between comforting him and chewing out the Auror office for keeping the fact that her husband had been in danger from her. Finally, she settled on something in between.

"First off, next time you go somewhere so dangerous I want to know. Tell Moody. And just because the mission wasn't a success doesn't mean that you're useless."

Frank wrenched himself out of his grip and began angrily pacing the kitchen. The bubble beard she'd given him would have been funny if he hadn't looked so torn up. "I should have been able to help, Alice. I didn't even take a hit—there must have been more that I could have done. People were _hurt._ "

"And just because you weren't, you're beating yourself up?" Alice shook her head. "This… this is a war, Frank. Some people are lucky, and some of them aren't. Today you were one of the lucky ones—isn't that enough?"

Frank's shoulders slumped. He ran a hand through his hair, looking tortured. "I… I hate this, Alice. I hate going on missions that I don't know I'll come back from, I hate having to worry about how James and Sirius are faring in the fight, hate that I'm so relieved you aren't there…"

Alice's blue eyes were grave. "Sometimes I will be there, Frank."

Her husband flinched and closed his eyes. "I know. That's what scares me."

"You did what you could."

The fight in him seemed to… give out. "That doesn't make me feel any better."

"You're not useless."

He opened his eyes. "With you, I don't feel that way."

Alice took a few steps forward and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her ear against his chest so she could hear his heartbeat. "Good. And Frank?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm scared of those things, too. Everyone is. But we can make it through this, together."

She could feel him smile against her head. "Maybe you're right. I hope you're right."

She tilted her head up and kissed his cheek. "We'll get through this."

She really did believe it, and prayed that Frank did, too.


	36. Bold Strokes

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts and the HPFC.**

 **Word Count: 479**

 **Enjoy!**

Ginny's laugh filled the room, drawing Theo's gaze back to her. He smiled at her over the canvas, admiring the way her red hair glowed in the sunlight. He loved these moments of serenity, when the outside world didn't matter at all and it was just the two of them.

Painting had been his escape after the war. There was something relaxing about it, something that made him forget about politics and punishments and disdainful looks. When he had a brush in his hand, all that existed was his imagination and the woman in front of him.

He was jealous of her, sometimes. Jealous that she had so many people to love her, that her family was so much more open-minded than his own. But when he saw her smiling at him, he knew that she was all he needed.

"Finished yet? We've been here hours, I'm starving."

Ginny's voice pulled Theo from his thoughts. He ran a hand through his dark hair and glanced at the portrait of her he was working on. He wasn't quite satisfied with it yet, but she was right—they had been at it for hours. He could resume tomorrow.

He set the brush down, shooting a small smile in his girlfriend's direction. "I'll finish tomorrow, if you can come then?"

Ginny hopped off the stool she was sitting on and made her way over to him, her freckled arms swinging at her sides. She stole a peek at the unfinished product, and Theo's heart beat a little faster when he caught the way her brown eyes lit up when she saw it.

"Of course!" She sent a blinding smile his way. "You're so talented," she told him sincerely.

Theo snorted softly as he began to gather up his supplies. "Maybe you're just a good subject."

Ginny grabbed his hand, halting his movements. "Might as well take the compliments, Theo. I don't hand them out that often."

Theo smiled sheepishly but nodded. "I'm working on it," he whispered.

It wasn't easy to suddenly accept that he was enough as he was—he'd lived his whole life striving to be the perfect son. Now that the war was over and he was no longer under the influence of his family, he had a freedom he didn't often know what to do with. It was Ginny who was holding his hand through it all, leading him down a path he'd never before dared to trod.

It was as terrifying as it was exhilarating.

Ginny leaned forward and kissed him chastely. "I know you are. Now come on, Mum wants you over for dinner."

Theo let her drag him to his feet and cast one last look at the painting before following her out of his apartment door.

The painting was beautiful, but it could never capture the love present in Ginny's eyes when she looked at him.


	37. Late Again

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 863**

 **Muggle!AU. Unbeta'd… I'm sorry.**

 **Enjoy!**

Remus was running late. Again. Honestly, he just wanted _one day_ where he could make it to appointments on time.

Alas, as a single father, that just didn't seem possible.

"Come on, Teddy," he begged, exhausted. "We'll go get a lolly or something afterwards, I promise. But we both need our hair cut."

The six-year-old pouted, his grey eyes wide and upset. "It's scary there."

"Whatever Uncle Prongs told you is a lie," Remus said firmly. "Nothing is going to hurt you there, okay? If you want, I can go first and you can see what it's like, okay?"

At this, Teddy reluctantly agreed. He seemed skeptical still, but Remus was counting his blessings. He quickly put the little boy in the car and drove to the hairdresser's, praying that Lily was right when she said this was a family-friendly establishment—or in other words, a child-patient establishment.

They were nearly there when Teddy spoke. "Daddy?"

Remus glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "Yes, son?"

"I don't think I want to go."

Remus groaned. "Teddy, please. We both need haircuts, and I promise it will be super fast. They'll even wash your hair—it'll feel nice."

Teddy slumped in his seat. "What if I _don't_ like it?"

Remus grit his teeth as he parked. "Then you'll have to suck it up and pretend. This is one of those things we have to do even if we don't like it."

"Like cleaning?"

Remus, despite his annoyance, huffed out a laugh. "Exactly like that."

He climbed out of the car and helped Teddy out, then practically dragged his grumbling son into the salon. He hurried to the receptionist's desk and tried to smile.

"Hi, I'm here for the two-thirty appointments? Lupin?"

The dark-haired woman smiled at him. "Hi, yes, Remus and Teddy Lupin?"

Remus smiled in relief. "Yes, that's us."

"Wonderful. Sirius is just finishing up his last appointment—he'll see to you both in a minute."

Remus thanked her—Alice, he learned—and sat down in the waiting room with Teddy. His son quickly immersed himself in some of the magazines on the rack, captivated by the pictures. He tugged on his father's sleeve.

"Daddy, can I have hair like that?"

Remus glanced down and felt his eyes widen when he saw the pictures on the page Teddy had opened up to. "Er, which one do you want?"

"The purple one."

"You can have purple hair when you're thirteen, and no sooner," Remus said sternly. There was no way he was dealing with hair dye before then.

"A boy who knows what he wants! That's my kind of kid."

Remus looked up, startled, and felt his breath catch in his throat. Of course the man cutting his hair was attractive. Of course.

The man stepped forward. "I'm Sirius Black, and I'll be helping you two out today. You _are_ the Lupins, I presume?"

Remus mentally shook himself and cleared his throat. "Yes, we are. I'm Remus and this is my son, Teddy. It's nice to meet you."

Sirius shook the hand Remus offered him. "The pleasure is all mine." He winked, and Remus felt himself flush.

Wanting to keep his hands occupied, Remus gently took the magazine from Teddy's fingers and grabbed his son's hand, then turned back to Sirius. "Right, thanks. So, I was thinking Teddy could go first—"

"What?" Teddy hid behind his legs and looked up at his father in alarm. "You said you were going first!"

"Oh. Okay, then." Remus mentally shook himself for forgetting. _Focus, Lupin_.

Sirius crouched down so he was at Teddy's level, some black strands of hair escaping his messy bun. "Are you going to help me cut your dad's hair?"

Alarm bells went off in Remus' head. "Oh, um—"

"Daddy says I can't have scissors un… un…" Teddy struggled to find the right word.

"Unsupervised," Remus murmured, pleased his son had remembered.

"Ah," Sirius began, "but you won't be. You don't need to do the cutting, but you can help me out if you want."

Teddy looked at his father early, his brown hair flopping in front of his eyes. Remus relented. "Okay, then. Nothing crazy."

Teddy grinned and practically dragged his father over to one of the shampoo stations. Sirius caught his eye and grinned. "Cute kid," he said as Remus sat down in a chair.

Remus glanced at the bouncing boy and raised an eyebrow. "Most of the time."

Sirius turned on the water and leaned Remus' head gently back, then began rinsing. "Lily said he's an absolute angel."

"What?" Remus' eyes jerked open, and his whipped his head around to Sirius. "You know Lily?"

Sirius chuckled and resumed washing, forcing Remus to lay back down. "I cut her hair every month. I think she's—"

"Playing matchmaker," Remus growled. "When I get home—"

"You should thank her," Sirius finished for him. "Assuming you want to have dinner with me tomorrow evening?"

Remus paused, caught off guard. "Like a date?"

Sirius hummed in confirmation. "Yep. And Lily's already offered to watch Teddy."

Remus twisted his head to look at Sirius once more. "I'd like that," he said softly.

Sirius' answering grin told him he'd made the right choice.


	38. Summer Storms

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. Prompts are below :)**

 **Word Count: 862**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Note: This is a Muggle!AU. Also, unbeta'd. I'm sorry.**

 **Enjoy!**

A camera clicked and flashed, revealing a grinning Colin when the light faded.

"I couldn't resist," he told Luna without a bit of sheepishness.

She laughed, her silver earrings catching the sunlight. Colin watched her with unadulterated awe. She was so at peace here in the park, sitting on the beach towel he'd dug up somewhere as she fascinatedly studied the spider climbing across her palm.

Colin put down his camera and took a large bite of the cheeseburger he'd bought for their picnic lunch. Luna was listing off facts about the spider while he ate, though he wasn't sure how much was fact or theory. Whatever the case, it was a passion of hers that she she knew a lot about, and Colin loved seeing his girlfriend so excited.

After a few minutes, Luna let the spider back onto the ground and the two seventeen-year-olds watched it scuttle away. Colin ran a hand through his blond curls and stood up, then grabbed the fishing rod he'd brought and nodded towards the nearby lake. There was a couple fishing there already, and he wanted to get a good spot before it got too crowded.

"I'll be over there," he called over his shoulder to Luna. "Are you coming?"

She smiled serenely at him. "I will be in a moment," she replied in her soft voice.

Colin grinned brightly at the blonde girl and headed to the lake, polishing off his cheeseburger as he went. He cast the line and sat down on the bank, waiting for a tug. A few minutes later Luna joined him, carrying a cardinal red umbrella to shade them both.

They sat and talked for hours, letting the day pass them by. Colin told her about his brother Dennis; Luna told him about her father Xenophilius, whose name Colin tried desperately not to laugh at.

Then the rain began. Luna and Colin, who'd taken a walk around the lake, raced toward the umbrella and huddled beneath it.

"Luna," Colin gasped, "are you okay?"

Luna's hair was plastered to her pale face. She tucked a few strands behind her ear. "I little water never hurt anyone, Colin. And besides, rain brings the rebirth of all life."

Colin grinned at her. So many people at school thought she was odd, but he loved her eccentricities. It reminded him how unique the world was—as a photographer he was always trying to capture the rare beauties of the world.

He reached out and took her hand, the many bracelets she wore jangling. He looked her in the eyes.

"When university comes, will we still have this?"

He wanted to get a reaction from her, maybe so he'd feel that his fear was validated, but she didn't even blink. She tilted her head to the side and surveyed him carefully. "Do you want it to?"

Colin's eyes widened. "No!"

Luna smiled and leaned forward to kiss him softly, her lips still wet from the rain around them. "Then I don't see why school should divide us."

Colin rested his forehead against hers. "You're right," he said, suddenly determined. "We're in this together, no matter what."

No one could break them apart, he decided. No force on this earth even—not time, not space, not anything. Maybe it was naive to believe that he knew what his future held, but Colin had never known the dangers in life. He thought that he was in complete control.

Luna hummed in agreement. After a moment's thought, she took a pen out of her pocket and motioned for his hand. He held it out to her and she turned it over, palm up.

She drew an infinity symbol on his wrist. "This symbolizes our love," she explained. "Through any torment, we're connected. Growing strong. Always lifting each other higher."

At the word "torment", Colin grinned teasingly. "I'll be the end of you, mark my words."

What he meant was that he never wanted to leave her. Her kiss proved she understood. Colin smiled down at his wrist; Luna drew the same symbol on his own. He liked that they had an outward connection. It made their relationship feel all the more permanent.

The rain began to let up some, and Colin held out a hand to Luna, his eyes sparkling. "Want to dance?"

Luna got to her feet—they were bare in the mud. "Shall we check on our things? I put the camera in the basket, but I'm not sure if the rain—"

Colin's eyes widened in horror. "The camera!"

He ran into the rain and dragged the basket and soaked towel under the umbrella, praying the water hadn't soaked his prize possession. He checked inside—and sighed with relief. It was still safe.

Luna crouched down beside him to inspect the camera and then deemed it unharmed. Colin was just glad that the basket had kept all the water out.

Luna touched his shoulder. "The rain's let up now. It's just after a summer shower—that's the most magical time of the day, you know."

Colin grinned and stood up. He held out his hand to her and Luna led him in a waltz whose music only she could hear, but he couldn't have been happier. These were the moments he cherished with her—untouched and untarnished by the outside world.

It was just the two of them, and it was perfect.

 **A/N:**

 **Writing Club:**

 **Assorted Appreciation: 9. Alice Cooper — Write about trying to shock someone**

 **Disney Challenge: Characters 5. Hamm — Write about someone knowledgeable**

 **Book Club: Percy Jackson — (object) pen,** **(emotion) determined, (food) cheeseburger**

 **Showtime: 5. The SQUIP Enters — (dialogue) "[name], are you okay?"**

 **Amber's Attic: 37. LunaColin**

 **Sophie's Shelf: 6. House Tyrell — "Growing strong."**

 **Liza's Loves: 1. "Captivate me, I want good thoughts in my head." - The Motivation Proclamation**

 **Angel's Arcade: 4. (dialogue) "I'll be the end of you, mark my words.",** **(word) torment,** **(plot point) dancing with someone**

 **Lo's Lowdown: 16. (animal) spider**

 **Film Festival: 16. (color) cardinal red**

 **Seasonal Challenge:**

 **Days of the Year: 30th March — (setting) park**

 **Spring: 15. (object) umbrella**

 **Earth: 17. (object) fishing rod**

 **Amanda's Challenge: Characters 6. Ben Hargreeves — alt. Write about someone who died young**

 **Paint by Numbers: Yellow: 13. Silver Earrings**

 **Truth or Dare: 1. "I couldn't resist."**

 **Gym: Madam Pomfrey: (action) running**

 **Constellation Club: Monoceros: Plaskett's Star — (word) divide**

 **Fortnightly:**

 **Jazzy June: MollyArthur — (plot point) picnic, (weather) summer storm, (object) towel, (au) Muggle**

 **365 Words: 8. Moment**

 **Insane House Challenge: 64. (character) Luna Lovegood**


	39. Heroes

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 583**

 **Unbeta'd. Apologies.**

 **Enjoy!**

"I am not your superwoman!" Marietta hissed at her.

Gabrielle took a step back. "What?"

She looked so confused and hurt by the older girl's tone that Marietta felt some of her anger slip into exhaustion. She didn't want to explain this. But the French girl was under some absurd notion that Marietta could keep the darkness of the world at bay.

Marietta was twentysix—much too old to think that she could ever be a hero or that such things existed in real life.

Gabrielle, at twenty, still clung to the idea that the world was _nice_ , and _beautiful_ , and _good._

And even of the world was split into heroes and villains, she would surely be sorted into the latter group. She winced as she remembered being young and foolish, offered a part in bigger things and nearly ruining lives just to save her own.

 _SNEAK._ That was what she'd been then, and what she always would be.

Marietta took a deep breath and turned back to Gabrielle. She cared about the girl, truly she did. But this was a message she had to get across.

"I'm not a hero," she said steadily, her dark eyes downcast. "I can't keep you safe, or help you be brave, or anything like that. Listen, the war is over now and the heroes—Potter, Granger, the Weasleys—they're all living their lives now. If you need a hero, ask them."

Gabrielle raised a pale blonde brow. When she spoke, her accent was barely there—she'd picked up English much faster than her older sister. "I asked you to come to France to help protest against the mistreatment of Veelas."

Marietta winced. She knew her girlfriend was asking a very small thing, but… she couldn't. She wouldn't make a difference; with her luck (and history) she'd only muck things up. She twisted a strand of curly red hair around her finger nervously. "I… I can't. I want to be there for you, but the last time I did anything like this—"

"You were young and didn't even want to do it in the first place," Gabrielle finished for her. "Oh, don't look at me like that, I heard the story from you. You can't let your fifteen-year-old self's actions keep you from doing things in the world—especially things that can make a difference."

Marietta bit her lip. "I'm not sure that—"

"Well, I am," Gabrielle declared. "Heroes aren't always the ones that get all the publicity, you know." Her blue eyes softened. "Sometimes they're the people who take a moment to save someone's cat from a tree, or help a child with something they've been struggling with. Or, in this case, it's someone who takes time out of their life to attend a protest in France."

Marietta hesitated. Gabrielle made it seem so easy—so simple. But was it really?

The quarter-Veela took Marietta's hands in her own and pressed her lips to the knuckles. "I love you, whatever you choose. I don't expect you to save the world—I'm just asking that you be there to offer support when I try to stick up for the people of my heritage."

Marietta's resolve crumbled. Her freckled face split into a small smile. "Okay, yes. I'll go with you."

Gabrielle's grin was blinding. " _Merci beaucoup,_ " she murmured, stealing a quick kiss from Marietta.

Marietta smiled and returned the kiss. Gabrielle was right. It was time to move on from the past and start working towards a brighter future—one small step at a time.


	40. Winning Her Over

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 861**

 **Unbeta'd. So sorry.**

 **Enjoy!**

The flowers… the flowers were a surprise.

Poppy Pomfrey stared at them for a long moment, confused and almost flattered. Then she read the tag.

 _To the most beautiful witch in the world._

 _From the most handsome man in the world (Gilderoy Lockhart)_

Poppy rolled her eyes. He'd been bothering her nonstop lately—now he was sending her flowers? Poppy didn't care how many books he'd written, she had a Hospital Wing to run. She could just ignore the flowers; she knew they would stop coming. She was ten years Gilderoy's senior, and he'd get tired of this pursuit for her attention eventually. There were younger, prettier witches.

That very morning she found out, to her great shock, that he had been _hired to teach._

She closed her blue eyes. This was going to be a long year.

* * *

"My darling Poppy! Come to watch me teach? I wouldn't blame you, I _am_ in my element here—"

"No, Gilderoy," she said with a sigh. "I'm here to drop off Miss Turner. Please don't let her exert herself too much—she had quite the nasty fall."

Gilderoy bowed deeply, and Poppy flushed scarlet. "My lady, I assure you Miss Turner will be well taken care of. Now, did you get my message about dinner tonight?"

The class was twittering from amusement. Poppy's lips thinned. "I had not, but I'm sorry to say that I need to stay in the Hospital Wing tonight, brewing potions."

"Oh, I'm sure Severus would be more than happy to—"

"No, I'd rather not inconvenience Professor Snape," she said firmly, feeling only a twinge of regret when his blue eyes lost some of their sparkle. They regained it a moment later, though.

"Playing hard to get? Don't worry, I'll wear you down eventually!"

" _Gilderoy_ ," she scolded as the class burst into excited murmuring; third years really were the worst gossips. "That's not an appropriate thing to say in front of the children."

"Ah, but my dear Poppy…" He grabbed her hand gently and kissed the top of it. "We both know it's the truth."

She raised a brown eyebrow. "Careful, Professor Lockhart, or I just might have to brew you—"

"A cauldron full of hot, strong love?" he asked, quoting the Celestina Warbeck song she didn't realize he knew she loved.

"An ego-reducing potion," she finished sharply. She looked him up and down. "Or perhaps a head-deflating one." With those words, she was out the door and well on her way to the Hospital Wing, leaving a disappointed celebrity behind her.

* * *

Poppy was furious. The chocolates and flowers she could handle. The serenading outside her window at night was acceptable with a Silencing Charm so the sleeping students wouldn't wake. But using magic he didn't understand on a student in hopes to impress her—that was too far.

After giving Potter the skelegrow and double-checking that he was really asleep, she marched out of her office towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. She didn't bother knocking.

"Gilderoy—" She cut herself off when she saw him at one of the desks, staring forlornly at the wall. His normally impeccable blond hair was drooping in front of his eyes, and his face was haggard. He looked up when he saw her, then winced and looked away again.

"Is Potter all right?" he asked softly. It was such a far stretch from his usual confident tone that Poppy found herself flailing for an answer.

"Yes, he will be. He's in for a rough night, though."

Gilderoy flinched. Poppy sighed and walked over to sit beside him. "You know that, as a faculty, we're a team, right? We look out for the students together. No one man can protect them—there is no 'I' in team."

Gilderoy frowned. "It's in 'leave me alone', though."

Poppy was a nurse—she knew when to leave a patient alone and when to keep pushing. "No… no it isn't. I'm not going to leave just because you're embarrassed. We need to address this."

Gilderoy shot her an annoyed look. "I only did it to impress you!"

"Exactly!" Poppy slammed her palm on the desk. "Exactly. Gilderoy, these attempts to… win me over… are flattering, I'll admit. I'm not… _entirely_ opposed to them. But you need to leave the students out of it. I don't want you flirting with me when they're around or performing spells you don't understand when they're injured. I need you to come to me. To trust me to do my job."

He looked down, ashamed. "You.. you're right. I apologize, Poppy."

The tension left her shoulders. "I think you owe Mr. Potter an apology as well. But… I'll accept yours."

His whole face brightened, and Poppy felt herself go red in the face. "In that case, Poppy, would you mind terribly accompanying me to Hogsmeade tomorrow evening?"

She bit her lip. "You'll keep this apart from the students?"

He took her hand with the utmost sincerity. "I promise to you I will."

She smiled softly. "Okay then."

When he smiled in celebration, she suddenly understood why he'd was the _Witch Weekly_ three-time consecutive winner. And to think, that smile would be all hers for one evening.


	41. The Sacrifices We Make

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 503**

 **Sadly, unbeta'd.**

 **Enjoy!**

"I can't believe you did that."

Pansy flinched at her girlfriend's words. She tried to ignore the guilt knotting in her stomach, but it was next to impossible. Still, she wasn't one to shy away from confrontation. Instead of apologizing—like she probably should have—she lifted her chin up.

"What would you have done in my position?"

Susan whirled around to face her. "Anything but that!" Her hands were balled into fists, and it hurt Pansy to know that all that anger was directed at her. "I just… I don't understand how you could say something like that. You may not like him, but he's a _good person._ "

Pansy turned her head to the side and scowled at the ground, her dark hair brushing against her chin. "This war… it needs to be over."

Susan gritted her teeth. "You don't really care which side wins, do you?"

Pansy didn't respond.

Susan shook her head slowly, a mix of wonder and horror coloring her features. "I can't believe this. Do you realize how many people died for this fight? How many people sacrificed themselves hoping to free themselves from the prejudice and discrimination they suffered through?"

Pansy looked at her girlfriend furiously. "I know that people have died! That's why I want to stop this as soon as we can—"

" _My parents died trying to stop him!"_

Pansy's mouth snapped shut. She stared at the other girl, stunned by the outburst. After a moment, she found her voice. "I know that," she whispered hoarsely. "How could I forget that?"

"If he wins," Susan continued, her voice deathly quiet, "then my parents' deaths were in vain."

"They weren't," Pansy protested weakly. "They won the first time, didn't they?"

Susan was crying now, but she wasn't making a sound. The silent tears were somehow more terrible that screams and sobs. "Do you really think the world would be better if he won?"

"I… I would know you were safe."

It was true. Susan was a halfblood—Voldemort wouldn't touch her, not if the Parkingsons asked him not to…

The Hufflepuff stared at her for a long moment. Then Susan walked towards the door, shakily reaching out to turn the knob—if she left the abandoned classroom she would enter the battle—

"What are you doing?"

"My safety is not worth the millions that will perish if he wins." Susan's response was filled with more fury than Pansy had ever seen from the other girl. "Giving Harry over might save me, but it would make me _hate you_."

Pansy's blood froze. She stumbled forward, horrified. "No—no, you said you loved me—"

Tear-filled blue eyes met hers. "If this is who you are, then I don't think I do."

Pansy stopped, her heart breaking in two. "You… you can't mean that."

Susan's eyes lowered to the floor. "Yes. I do. I… I need to go fight with the others—to protect my family." She went through the door.

Susan was gone. And Pansy… Pansy was alone.

And it was all her fault.


	42. They'll Love You

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts**

 **Word Count: 378**

 **Unbeta'd. I promise I only the shortest will be without extra eyes. Sorry.**

 **Enjoy!**

Katie smirked as the Quaffle sailed right under Oliver's arm into the hoop. He blinked at it, shock written across his features.

He cleared his throat and turned to his girlfriend. "That was supposed to happen."

She raised a brow at him. "Oh, really?"

They were practicing Quidditch one-on-one, and Oliver was obviously not expecting the amount of growth Katie had gained over the summer. It had been a passion before; now, it was a career choice. She wanted this badly, so she put in more work than ever before—and by the looks of things, it was paying off.

Not that Oliver would admit to that, of course.

She grinned at him. "Let's go again then, shall we?"

She turned and flew away without waiting for an answer. She scooped up the Quaffle and headed to the middle of the pitch, her brown eyes narrowed as she squinted as Oliver, who was in front of the goalposts. Her red and gold uniform glinted in the sunlight as she hovered there, waiting for the right moment to begin her race.

Then she rushed forward, the sudden speed catching her boyfriend off guard. She flew towards the goalposts, heading for the left one, before pretending to feint right, which she knew was what Oliver would have expected from her. Katie laughed as the large red ball scored once again.

She flew slowly over to the boy. "Tell me, Oliver, was that supposed to happen?"

Oliver groaned and slowly descended until his feet hit the ground. He looked up at her, squinting against the sunlight. "Okay, I admit it. You're good."

Katie grinned in triumph and flew back to the ground. She slung her broom over her shoulder and patted her captain on the back. "You put up a good fight," she conceded.

He snorted. You don't have to be polite." He looked at her appraisingly, something soft in his eyes. "They're going to have a field day with you. Every team will want you."

She beamed and pecked him on the cheek. "They're going to love you, too. We'll be a force to be reckoned with." She took his broom and threw it over her other shoulder, then winked at him. "Now come on. We have classes to get to."


	43. Not So Bad

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 499**

 **Changed the prompt from 911 to 999.**

 **Unbeta'd.**

 **Enjoy!**

"Somebody better call 999. Innit that what the Muggles do?"

Sturgis groaned when he heard the voice. Where… where was he? He struggled to open his eyes. Everything hurt.

"Mate? 'Ello, mate, can you hear me?"

Sturgis opened his eyes. "Yes," he managed to rasp. "W-where…"

"We found ya in the road. We're in Bath, we are. How'd you get here?"

Sturgis flinched as he remembered the wands moving his direction, the Ministry Aurors who didn't understand that he'd been Imperiused trying to incarcerate him… he remembered Apparating in a panic, the awful splinching…

"It's a… long story." He raised his brown eyes to look at the man standing over him. "Who're you?"

"I'm Stan Shunpike, I am," the young man said proudly. "Ernie—he's the driver—and I'll be bring you to the 'ospital—"

"No, I—did you mention Muggles? I…" Sturgis winced at the pain in his chest. "I'm a wizard."

"Ah, brilliant then. St. Mungo's it is. Lemme jus' lift you up now—"

"No, please, I—" Sturgis hissed in pain. He closed his eyes. He hated hurting the youth who'd been so kind to him, but he couldn't reveal the Order. "Just leave me here, Stan. I don't want to… to go."

Stan peered at him closely, his pockmarked face concerned. Finally, he said, "You need help, mate. If you can't see a Healer… will you let me find someone else?"

Sturgis hesitated. He needed medical attention—he knew that. But he couldn't risk getting carted off to Azkaban if Stan heard news that he was the missing man who'd tried to break into the Department of Mysteries.

"I…"

Stan's hands were surprisingly gentle as he lifted Sturgis' head, uncaring that the blond hair was splattered with blood. "I don' spill secrets, mate. I know that…" Those blue eyes turned haunted. "I know that there are things we're not allowed to know. I know that there's more than what the Ministry's saying."

Sturgis relaxed. This was a chance he needed to take. "Okay then," he wheezed.

With a strength Sturgis hadn't expected from him, Stan helped him to stand, carrying most of his weight. They walked off the back road Sturgis had been laying on towards a bus—the Knight Bus, Sturgis realized.

"Ernie!" Stan pounded on the doors. "Open up, Ern. There's a bloke I've got to get 'ome."

The door opened. "I can't call the Muggles, Stan, I told you…"

"Forget that," Stan answered briskly. "We're taking 'im to mine."

Ernie—and old man behind the wheel—frowned. "Don't be daft—this isn't some romantic Muggle book. Rescuing men off the streets doesn't lead to happily ever after."

Stan rolled his eyes. "I'm not that 'opeless. Let me hide a handsome fugitive, won't chu?"

Sturgis' eyes widened softly. He was willing to hide him?

Stan helped him onto the bus and onto a bed. Then the man started using basic Healing charms to stop the worst of the bleeding from his arms.

Maybe trusting Stan wasn't such a bad idea after all.


	44. Thank You, Ginny Weasley

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 536**

 **Unbeta'd.**

 **Enjoy!**

Neville took one look at Zacharias and groaned. "I'm going to kill her," he grumbled.

Zacharias crossed his arms. "Yeah? Well, get in line. I'm killing her first."

Neville put his head in his hands and sighed. When Ginny told him she was setting him up on a blind date, this was not what he'd been expecting. Sure, then other man had really cleaned up his act after the war—he donated to many charities and helped to set the Ministry straight—but Neville still wasn't sure that Zacharias was a good match for him.

What could they possibly have in common?

Zacharias sighed. "Listen, Neville… this isn't ideal, I agree. But she is paying for the meal, and I don't know about you, but I don't want that to go to waste. Let's just… have our dinner and see where this takes us."

Neville had to admit that the blond man had a point. "All right then," he agreed reluctantly.

They sat in uncomfortable silence while they decided what to order, and began looking around desperately for something to talk about once they were waiting for their food to come.

"Ginny Weasley is the nosiest woman on earth," Zacharias said suddenly.

Neville grabbed onto the topic gratefully. "She is," he agreed. "I told her I was happy being single."

"So did I!" Zacharias shook his head. "It's like she thinks that, now she's in a relationship with Potter, everyone else needs to be, too."

"I agree completely," Neville said, glad someone else thought like he did. "Although I will say that part of it is that she nearly lost Harry during the war. She doesn't want anyone else to miss their chance like she nearly did."

"You're probably right," Zacharias conceded. He hesitated slightly. "You know, I never did get to thank you for what you did during the battle. It was incredibly brave of you. And I know that when I joined the DA I didn't take it nearly as seriously as I ought to have… but seeing the reality of the war made me appreciate you all better."

Neville was surprised by this honest admission. "You've grown," he murmured. "People are allowed to grow, you know."

Zacharias laughed hollowly. "I was an idiot. An ignorant idiot."

"And I was an insecure little kid before I had to step up," Neville countered. "I won my confidence that day; you earned your wisdom after the war. These things take time to develop."

Zacharias was silent for a long time. "That's… very kind of you, Longbottom."

"Call me Neville."

Zacharias smiled. "Call me Zacharias."

They talked for a long time, the conversation flowing much easier after that. When they had finished their meal and ordered dessert, Zacharias turned to him again.

"You know… you can kill Ginny. I'm not sure I want to anymore."

Neville tilted his head to the side, his brown hair falling in front of his blue eyes. "And why is that?"

"She was right—I did have fun tonight."

Neville turned red at the compliment, but he was smiling. When their cake came, Neville admitted to himself that tonight hadn't been the bust he thought it would be—maybe he owed Ginny a favor after all.


	45. Tuesday Morning

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for HPFC. (pairing) OliverFred, (au) bakery, (word) perplex**

 **Word Count: 502**

 **Muggle/Bakery!AU**

 **Enjoy!**

It was just another lazy day at the bakery. Fred certainly wasn't expecting anyone special. It was just another routine day—open up with his mum, prepare the pastries for the day, watch the first customers trail in… then a lunch break and it was back to the till.

Tuesday mornings were never very crowded, so Fred didn't concern himself with all the preparation he'd have done normally. He instead sat on a stool behind the counter and stared listlessly out the window from which sunshine was pouring. He drummed his fingers on the surface in front of him and let his thoughts wander to the football game that had been on the telly last night—

"Hullo."

Fred turned. The man on the other side of the counter was grinning widely at him, entirely too perky for this hour. It perplexed Fred… but it also intrigued him. There was _something_ about this man that demanded his attention.

Maybe it was the dark hair flopping stubbornly in front of his eyes. Or the Scottish accent. Or the way he looked equally as interested in Fred.

"'Lo," Fred greeted cheerily, his brown eyes surveying the customer carefully. "Can I get you anything?"

The man nodded, and Fred's gaze caught on a square jaw covered in dark stubble. "Yes, please."

He rattled off his order, which Fred quickly and efficiently punched it in. As he opened the display case to grab the pastries, the slightly taller man struck up conversation.

"The sign says family own—is this place yours?"

Fred snorted. "Nah, mate. It's my mum's. All my brothers and sister work here until we're on our feet, is all. Sometimes we come back in the summer for kicks." His eyes flickered upwards. "I'm Fred, by the way."

The other man leaned on the counter and smiled. "I'm Oliver." He paused. "You all sound very close."

Fred looked up from where he was hunched over. "Yeah, I suppose so. Any brothers or sisters of your own?"

Oliver shrugged and shook his head. "Nah. Some cousins I don't see much, is all."

Fred tutted. "Shame, that. One of my older brothers was always fun to prank—can't imagine a life without him."

Oliver laughed. "Did you drive him mad?"

Fred straightened up with a grin. "You know I did." He handed the bag of treats over to the other man and told him the price. As he fished around in his pockets for the correct amount, Fred eyes lit up with mischief. He ripped off the receipt and uncapped the pen clipped to his pocket. He quickly scrawled across the paper while Oliver wasn't looking and then handed it over with a smile.

Oliver grabbed the bag and receipt and flashed a winning smile Fred's way. He was nearly out the door when he noticed the phone number Fred and written down. His face a bit red, he made a show of pocketing the number and went out the door.

Fred leaned back, satisfied. Today had most certainly _not_ been a waste.


	46. Music to My Ears

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for HPFC. PansyDaphne**

 **Muggle/Musician!AU**

 **Word Count: 403**

 **Enjoy!**

Pansy hadn't expected to find love on a Friday evening at a charity event, of all things, but well… here she was.

Daphne Greengrass, the little paper program said. Pansy was too far away to make out most of her features, but that woman could _play_.

Limbs moved lithely as Daphne drew the notes from the violin, a tune that was at once soft and strong, sweet and unyielding. She played for the masses with a clear passion, leaving everyone in the audience entranced.

Pansy's dark eyes were locked on the figure on the stage. The music filled her heart and lifted her spirits, which was an incredibly foreign feeling to the young woman. Life had been so hectic and stressful lately. She hadn't realized how much she needed this break from reality.

Eventually, the music came to an end. Speeches were made, but Pansy was watching Daphne put her instrument away down in the front row. Determination settled in Pansy's stomach. She waited impatiently for the event to come to a close. The charity had her full support, of course, but Daphne could get away any minute.

Pansy wasn't about to let that happen.

She pushed her way through the mass of bodies, wincing whenever her foot was trod on or an elbow hit her ribs. Despite the unpleasantness of the crowd, she never deterred.

And then—there she was.

Almond-shaped eyes glanced Pansy's way; an elegant black brow rose to its owner's hairline. "Can I help you?"

Pansy's heartbeat quickened just slightly. She smoothed down her black dress and held out a hand to the woman crouched over the violin case. "Pansy Parkinson," she murmured. "Pleasure to meet you."

Daphne accepted her hand. "Daphne Greengrass."

Pansy helped the other woman to her feet and shot her a smile. "You play beautifully," she told her honestly. "I was… very moved."

A pale pink dusted Daphne's cheeks at the compliment, but she seemed pleased. "Thank you. That means a lot."

Pansy grinned, pleased. She took a step forward. "I was wondering if you'd like to join me this evening for a walk in the park? The stars truly are lovely tonight."

Daphne tilted her head to the side, considering. "I think that would be lovely," she answered.

This, Pansy thought, could be her eye of the storm, her peace in the chaos.

Daphne slung her case over her shoulder. "Shall we?"

Pansy smiled. "Let's."


	47. More Than the World

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 363**

 **Enjoy!**

Rowena woke up to someone shaking her shoulder. She rolled over slowly, eyes barely open, to see Helga standing over her bed. Her hair almost glowed in the moonlight, Rowena noticed. She sat up and lifted an elegant brow as she regarded her lover.

"Helga," she murmured, looking at the younger witch. "It's not yet morning."

Helga beamed at her. "Exactly."

Helga grabbed Rowena's hand and dragged her out of bed. Rowena's nightgown swished about her feet when she stumbled, and her long, dark hair spilled over her shoulders. She looked at Helga with confusion.

"Where are we going?"

Helga took her hand, brown eyes shining warmly. "We're going to look at the stars."

Rowena frowned. Her mind was still exhausted. She hated being awoken before dawn for exactly this reason, but she couldn't deny the woman in front of her. So instead of complaining, she asked, "And why are we looking at the stars, exactly?"

Helga led her over to the balcony and threw the doors open wide. Fresh, cool air hit the two women, causing goosebumps to erupt along Rowena's bare arms.

Helga turned back to look at her lover, the dark, mysterious night sky stretching behind her as far as the eye could see. The stars were dotted all around her, embracing Helga with their soft glow. "Because they're beautiful," she said simply.

And though Rowena would never admit to thinking something so romantic, she thought that the stars weren't the only beautiful thing she saw.

So Rowena humored her and sat down beside her. Together, they stared into the great expanse of the heavens, and Rowena hadn't ever felt so small and so invincible at once.

"Rowena?" Helga murmured.

Rowena glanced at Helga. "Yes?"

"I do love you, you know."

A flush crept its way up Rowena's cheeks, masked by the darkness. Helga always went out of her way to remind her of her love; it was a reminder that Rowena often found herself needing. Emotions didn't come naturally to her; it was nice to know that hers were reasonable feelings.

But tonight… it wasn't just reassurance. It was truth.

And that, somehow, meant more than all the world.


	48. One Step at a Time

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 583**

 **Enjoy!**

Dean wasn't quite sure how the barista had captured his heart, but he had. Now Dean just had to figure out what to do about it.

He entered the shop, the bell dinging cheerily as he pushed the door open. His worn sandals didn't do much to hide his habit of curling his toes when he was nervous, but he pushed that thought aside. He was on a mission.

Piers gave him a little wave when he spotted him, and Dean's stomach did backflips.

He made his way up to the counter and propped an elbow up on it. "Hey," he began. "How're you?"

He was stalling, he knew, but Piers didn't seem to pick up on his inner turmoil.

"I'm okay. Been slow today."

Piers' dark hair fell in his eyes and he pushed it away absentmindedly. Dean swallowed. "Do you prefer that to the busy days?"

Piers shrugged and shot him a nervous grin. "Depends on my mood, mate."

Dean nodded, but there was a cold lump in his stomach. _Mate_. Hopefully Piers wasn't completely against turning it into something more…

Piers cleared his throat. "Getting your usual?"

Dean snapped back to attention. "Er, yes, please." There wasn't any use in letting good coffee go to waste.

Once his caffeinated beverage was in hand, Dean cleared his throat. "So, Piers. I was wondering if, maybe this weekend, you wanted to grab a bite to eat somewhere."

Piers looked startled. "You want to?"

Dean's heart sank. "You don't?"

"I didn't say that," Piers hastened to explain. "It's just… I don't know. I don't want it to get awkward in the middle."

He was rubbing the back of his neck, and Dean thought furiously for a way to remedy the situation. Maybe Piers just needed more of a foundation first. Maybe dinner was too big of a step right now.

It made sense. After all, Dean had been completely overwhelmed when he first stepped foot into Hogwarts. Little steps were easier to handle.

"Well, then," he said slowly, "maybe I could buy you a coffee?"

Piers' eyes narrowed in confusion. "Huh?"

Regaining some of his confidence, Dean leaned forward. "I'm going to buy you a coffee. What do you want?"

"I work here." Piers glanced down at his green apron as though to double check that fact. "I can just—"

"Ah, but you see" —Dean waved his index finger at him— "then it wouldn't be a coffee from me."

Piers stared at him for a long moment before hesitantly moving to make himself a cup. "This is ridiculous," he informed Dean.

It was, but wasn't everything, in a sense? "You're just afraid to try it," he shot back.

They both knew he wasn't talking about the coffee.

So Piers snapped his mouth shut and shrugged, adding his drink to Dean's purchase. He looked at the customer with a mix of exasperation and fondness. "You really are something."

Dean grinned and took a sip of his coffee. "Thank you."

They made idle chit chat for a while longer. Piers eventually relaxed when it sank in that Dean wouldn't push him for a date, much to Dean's pleasure. Once they'd both finished their coffees, they spoke a bit longer before a customer came in and Piers had to return to work.

But before Dean left, Piers squeezed his hand in farewell.

As he drove home, a huge smile took over Dean's features. It seemed that all those months going to the cafe hadn't been wasted.


	49. Summers and Lemonade

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 308**

 **Enjoy!**

Albus Potter slurped from his straw as he walked down the streets, hand-in-hand with Scorpius Malfoy. It was a brilliant summer day, but the heat barely even registered to the fair-goers. Even Scorpius, who'd doubted that Muggle rides and treats could be as impressive as wizarding ones, was having a great time.

Albus counted it as a win.

The two boys ate their fill of cotton candy, popcorn, and a million other things. Throughout the day, Albus was just happy to be able to spend such a carefree day with someone he loved so much.

"Hey." Albus jerked his head towards the ferris wheel in the distance. "Want to take a ride?"

Scorpius nauseously looked up at the ferris wheel. Albus laughed and lightly punched the other boy's shoulder.

"Or not. We don't have to go," he assured his boyfriend. "There are plenty of other things to do." He took a sip of his lemonade for emphasis.

Scorpius ran a hand over his blond hair. "But you want to."

Albus laughed. "It's a ferris wheel. There are other rides."

Scorpius shrugged and looked away. Albus frowned."Scorpius?"

"It's just that you were looking forward to today," the blond blurted. "I don't want to ruin it."

Albus looked around at the crowded carnival, at all the smiling faces and bright-eyed laughter. He took Scorpius' hand in his and gestured to them all. "I didn't want to come here for the ferris wheel. I came here to have fun with you!" He turned his green-eyed gaze to his fellow Slytherin. "I promise you, you're not ruining anything."

Scorpius relaxed slightly. "As long as you're not disappointed."

Albus shook his head. "Of course not. Now come on, I'm sure there are a million prizes with our names on them."

Scorpius hesitated, but then he grinned and nodded. Albus grinned right back.


	50. Out of the Blue

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for HPFC.**

 **Word Count: 504**

 **Enjoy!**

Tonks blew her bubblegum-pink hair out of her eyes as she passed off the coffee to her latest customer. The clock seemed to be ticking by so _slowly_ —the hour left of her shift seemed to be dragging on twice as long. It was ridiculously boring in the little shop, and there were other ambitions Tonks wanted to pursue, but there were bills to pay. Honestly, it wasn't the worst job in the world; it would do for now.

That reasoning didn't make it any easier to endure.

The bell above the door jingled. Tonks looked up in time to see one of the regular customers walk through—tall, with gravity-defying dark hair and glasses that were always crooked. James.

He walked up to the counter and she sent him a grin. "Your usual two, I'm guessing?"

Every week, James and his lover came in for coffee together. This had been going on for so long that Tonks remembered his order perfectly—most days James didn't even have to say a word. He and the other man even sat in the same booth each visit.

It was sweet, in Tonks' opinion. Most of the men she'd dated never bothered to commit to a routine like that. It figured that all the good ones were taken.

But today was, apparently, unlike every other week. "Ah, no actually," James replied. His smile seemed slightly strained, and there was a tightness behind his hazel eyes. "Just the latte, thanks."

Tonks' heart-shaped face was filled with confusion, but she nevertheless set about making the drink. She handed it to him when she was finished and he paid before sitting down in his usual booth—alone.

Five minutes passed. Ten. Fifteen. No sign of the man who usually joined him.

Eventually Tonks decided that business was slow enough for her to take a quick break.

James seemed surprised when he she slid into the seat across from him. She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Everything all right? You seem... quieter than usual." _And the other bloke is late._

James shrugged and took a sip of his drink. "I'm here alone today," he said in answer to her unspoken question. "We had a falling out." He grinned forcedly. "I hope I don't look as pathetic as that sounds."

Tonks huffed. "That's not pathetic. I am sorry it didn't work out, though," she added softly after a moment.

James ran his hand through his hair. "It wasn't working for a long time, to be honest. It's been a few days since he left," he admitted hoarsely. Then he cleared his throat—personal sharing was definitely done for the day, which Tonks respected. "Anyway. You know my name by my drink order—what's yours?"

Tonks pointed at her nametag. James squinted at it.

"N. Tonks?"

" _Just_ Tonks," she clarified.

James laughed. "Okay then, _Just Tonks_. Tell me about yourself."

She considered the older man for a moment. She hadn't planned on making any friends today, but something about him interested her.

So she opened her mouth and began.


	51. Never Gone

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for HPFC and Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 314**

 **Enjoy!**

When Oliver walked into the room where Percy was getting ready, he already had an inkling of what was wrong. When he saw his husband-to-be's face, his suspicions were confirmed.

"Perce." He set a hand on the red-headed man's shoulder. "It's going to be okay."

The words didn't seem to register. Percy's fingers skimmed over his silver engagement ring as he sat stiffly in his chair, his expression heavy. "Do you ever just miss someone so bad that it hurts?" came the soft whisper.

Oliver closed his eyes. "Of course." He lowered his head so his lips could brush against Percy's ear. "But Fred would want you to celebrate this day."

"He should be here."

There was no point in lying. "Yes. He should be."

Percy was quiet for a long moment. "You actually want to marry me?"

Oliver frowned. "Why wouldn't I?"

Percy looked up at him, his blue eyes worried. "I'm a bit of a mess, in case you haven't noticed."

"Yes," Oliver admitted. "But we all are, in our own way."

Percy huffed out a little laugh. He reached up and laced his fingers through Oliver's. "You're good at this." His eyes crinkled with fondness. "I love you," he added quietly.

"And I love you," Oliver replied readily. He let his lips fall on Percy's forehead for a moment before straightening up. "Right then. We have a wedding to get to, and I have a feeling your mum is getting impatient."

Percy cracked a smile at that, his freckled face regaining some of its color. "I'm sure she is. You're right, it's time to get going."

The other groom stood up and followed Oliver to the door. Before opening it, though, Oliver turned back to Percy. "Fred is here," he promised with certainty. "Watching us. And I know he's grinning."

Percy took his hand and squeezed it. "I think you're right."


	52. Moving On

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for HPFC's Word Count Game Challenge, using the prompts "How does it feel to lose the best thing that's ever happened to you?", Rowena Ravenclaw, strength, and blanket.**

 **Word Count: 813**

 **WARNINGS: Mentioned/referenced character death, grieving**

 **Enjoy!**

"How does it feel to lose the _best thing_ that's ever happened to you?"

Salazar's cold, icy voice washed over Rowena like a thick fog. She closed her eyes and half-turned towards him.

"Must you do this now?" she asked quietly. For once, she didn't care if her voice sounded weak to him; being here, at the funeral of her daughter's father, proved her strength. If Salazar couldn't see that, then so be it.

Salazar took a step closer, his dark eyes piercing. "You chose him over me. I could have provided so much more. I would not have been fool enough to lose to a wyvern—"

"Sir Cadogan was a brave man," Rowena bit out harshly, "and I will not have you slandering him in death."

Salazar's lips thinned. He glanced down at Helena, who was wrapped in a blanket and asleep in her mother's arms. "You will need someone to take care of you both."

Rowena's grey eyes flashed. "I do not need a man to provide for me. I'm more than capable of taking care of my daughter alone."

"You're _capable_ , yes," Salazar agreed. "But the world isn't going to let you. It's not so advanced yet."

She faltered. He was right. No one would hire a woman, no matter how capable she was. Rowena wouldn't have any income, no way to provide for her daughter—unless she took Salazar up on his offer.

But she knew he loved her. Could she really live the rest of her life tied to this man, showing the rest of the world a love that was only an illusion? And her daughter—her dear Helena… what sort of father would Salazar be to her?

He seemed to guess that she was thinking. Salazar strode slowly over to her, and despite her discomfort, Rowena stood her ground. She didn't flinch when his thin fingers tucked a stray strand of brown hair behind her ear; he watched the way it curled with an almost fascination.

"I'll love the world like my own," he promised softly. "She looks enough like you; no one will ever have to know that she was born _out of wedlock_."

Rowena, to her horror, felt tears welling up. She'd been unable to cry when she'd heard the news of Cadogan's death, when she'd arranged the funeral, and after his burial, but now… now everything seemed so bleak and hopeless. She just couldn't see that she had a choice, not if she wanted to keep her baby safe.

Her eyes flickered up to meet Salazar's. "Only marriage?" She knew he could tell what she was really asking; he'd never been a fool. In another life, she might have actually loved him.

He bowed his head slightly, his dark locks falling in front of his eyes. "I swear it on the blood in my veins."

She bit her lip until she could taste the blood, but it helped to get her tears under control. She turned back to Cadogan's grave, letting a single droplet fall down her pale cheek. Rowena was not one for crying. She knew how to pick herself up again.

Picking up the pieces of her heart would be harder, but she would find a way.

Her gaze travelled back to Salazar, who was waiting patiently for her answer. For a moment, she allowed herself to dream. She pictured blond hair where there was black; sky-blue eyes where there were charcoal-grey; a thick build where there was a slim one. She imagined it was her dear Cadogan who was holding out his arms to her.

But that reality had been turned to dreams in a great ball of fire. She had to choose a new path now. Rowena straightened her back.

"Let's go, then," she whispered into the cool night. "No one can ever know."

Salazar smiled and took her hand. "You won't regret it."

Rowena wasn't so sure.

* * *

Years passed, and Salazar—as promised—treated her and Helena well. He never pushed his wife to do anything she didn't want to, and he didn't argue about the way she governed her own life, like many men of the time would have. Helena grew up strong and happy, never quite realizing that the man she called "father" bore no relation to her at all.

Rowena was content. She was proud of all that she'd accomplished with Salazar at her side; Hogwarts, apart from her daughter, was her greatest joy. But she still yearned for her first love.

She visited Cadogan's grave weekly. Helena never went, believing him to be an old friend of her mother's. Helga went once, and Rowena knew the other woman knew more than she was letting on.

"He would be proud of you, Rowena," she'd said once.

Rowena closed her eyes, letting the sunlight wash over her as she sat before the grave. She could only hope Helga was right.


	53. There Will Be Time

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for HPFC and Hogwarts. :)**

 **Word Count Game Challenge: 750, RonHermione, grief, angst, the Burrow**

 **Word Count: 775**

 **Enjoy!**

Ron didn't look up when he heard his bedroom door open; he knew it was Hermione. She was the only one who didn't knock before entering. It used to annoy him. Now, he was just… indifferent.

"Hey." The mattress dipped beside him, which told him that she'd sat down. "Your mum says it's time to eat."

Ron ran a hand through his red hair, wincing when his fingers snagged on a knot. "I'll be down in a bit."

Hermione let out a long sigh, and her thin fingers found his. She gently pulled his hand away from his head and gave it a squeeze. "I know it's hard," she whispered, her brown eyes heavy with grief, "but he'd… he'd want you to keep going, Ron."

He felt himself shudder and pull away, avoiding his girlfriend's—is that what they were now? Too much had happened for them to be just friends, surely—gaze. "We don't know what he wants. He's dead." Ron's voice was hollow but hard. "He's not coming back."

Hermione was silent for a long time. "No," she said at last. "He isn't." She worried her lip between her teeth and wrapped a hesitant arm around his waist. "But you did."

"I—I know I—argh! What does that matter?" He turned towards her angrily, and she pressed her lips together. He felt hot, like he was burning—it was grief, rage, and hopelessness, all balled together into one indescribable emotion. "He's gone, Hermione. None of the other stuff bloody matters."

Hermione pursed her lips sternly, obviously caught between telling him off sternly and trying to be more compassionate. Honestly, Ron wasn't sure which he would prefer.

Eventually, she settled on a mix of the two. "Ron," she began slowly, lifting a hand up to run it through his red hair, "it's a miracle you survived the war, okay? And I don't mean that you're incapable of anything," she hastily clarified, "just that it's so lucky we didn't lose you along with the others. I know you miss Fred, but you need to remember you're still alive."

Ron rolled his eyes. "How could I forget that?"

Hermione's hand left his hair, and he immediately felt regretful. "Don't do that," she whispered. "I'm trying to help you. Don't push me away or take your grief out on me." She turned away from him, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. "That is not what I'm here for, Ronald."

He grit his teeth at the sound of his full name. "Don't bloody call me that."

"Then treat me with some respect!"

He opened his mouth to retort, but suddenly fell silent when he saw her face. There were dark bags under her eyelids and tight lines beside her eyes, and he couldn't help but think that seventeen was too damn young to look so damn old. But they'd both seen and done things they couldn't undo, and there was no way to retrieve the years they'd lost.

Suddenly, it seemed pointless to yell at someone who was very close to understanding how he was feeling. And… Hermione was right. As usual. He couldn't take this out on her; it wasn't fair, and she didn't deserve it.

He deflated. "You're right," he murmured. "I'm sorry."

She blinked, and he watched the tension drain from her shoulders. "I know this is hard," she reminded him softly. "But I'm here for you. You just have to let me be."

Ron exhaled slowly, feeling his shoulders drop. "I'm not trying to be difficult," he promised softly. "I just—Hermione. Hermione, I miss him." His voice broke, and he squeezed his eyes shut tight, trying to keep the tears at bay.

Thin arms wrapped around his shoulders, and Ron twisted so he could bury his face in the girl's bushy brown hair. Her warmth was comforting, and he felt himself begin to give in to her. His limbs grew heavy as he began sobbing, but Hermione didn't flinch. She just let him cry, rubbing circles on his back as she held him. After several minutes, he sat up, embarrassed.

He cleared his throat. He nearly apologized, but then thought better of it. "Thank you."

Hermione smiled softly at him. There was no judgement in her eyes, and Ron thought she was wonderful for it. "It's okay to miss him, Ron."

He nodded slowly, then reached out hesitantly to cup her face. He leaned forward to kiss her chastely, and it was a testament to how well she knew him that she didn't try to deepen the kiss. She was just… perfect for him.

Maybe he loved her. But there would be time to figure that out.


	54. Love Every Moment

**A/N: Hey y'all! Pure wolfstar fluff for your enjoyment :)**

 **Word Count: 356**

 **Enjoy!**

"I picked up that dessert you like."

Remus glanced up when he heard his husband's voice, his quill still hovering over the paper he was grading. "Hmm?"

Sirius laughed and walked more fully into Remus' office, despite the fact that Minerva always insisted that weekdays were _for teachers and staff only, Black_. Really, at this point, the headmistress might as well accept that Sirius was just going to come and go as he pleased—not that Remus minded.

"Put the quill down, Remus. It's curry night, and then chocolate cake. Your favorite."

Remus shot his partner a grin. "I appreciate it, love. But I need to finish with these essays."

Sirius groaned. "Give them all an EE and be done with it."

Remus cocked an eyebrow, but didn't look up from his work. "I'm afraid that's not how this works."

Warm, strong hands were suddenly on Remus' shoulders, fingers moving deftly to loosen the muscles. Remus felt himself relax, and he couldn't help the small sigh of contentment that escaped him.

"You know you want to," Sirius' voice whispered in his ear. "All this and more, if you put that quill down and come eat with me."

Remus rolled his amber eyes, but he could feel himself giving in. "You do realize that I'm going to hate you in the morning, right?"

Sirius' grin was bright enough to light the whole castle. "I am very much aware of that fact, thank you."

Remus let a soft chuckle escape him and set down his quill. "Fine then. As long as you know what you're getting into."

Sirius' grey eyes softened. "Oh, believe me, I knew what I was getting into a long time ago."

"Hmm." Remus leaned his head back until it was pressed against Sirius' chest. "Have you regretted any of it?" he asked teasingly. Once, there might have been some seriousness to the question. But after ten years of living in a Voldemort-free world, five years of marriage, and thirty-seven years of knowing each other, Remus knew better.

Sirius huffed out a breathy laugh and bent forward to kiss his husband's forehead. "Not a single moment."


	55. Unlike the Rest

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for HPFC and Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 500**

 **Enjoy!**

 _Dean Thomas_. The name had been printed on her wrist since she was born. The slightly slanted script always fascinated Pansy, though she wouldn't ever admit it. This was the name of the person who was supposed to love her unconditionally—her perfect match.

When she got to Hogwarts, she told herself, she'd find him.

Except, she didn't—not really. She'd always known that Thomas wasn't a pureblood name, but when she saw him for the first time at the Sorting ceremony… well. She hadn't expected a Gryffindor. After some digging, she discovered he was Muggleborn, too. Unworthy, her family would say. Dirty, even.

She could _feel_ his eyes on her as she made her way to the Slytherin table, but she didn't look back at him.

* * *

Days turned into weeks, into months, into years. Dean tried to approach her multiple times—she ran away from him. Fifth year, he stopped trying to make contact with her.

She told herself it was better this way, but couldn't deny the fact that it had felt nice when someone cared enough to come looking for her.

* * *

There were curses flying everywhere, and Pansy could hardly breathe for fear of them. Her dark hair was plastered to her cheek with blood and sweat, and she just wanted to collapse because _what was the point of going on like this?_ Let Voldemort rule; she didn't care anymore.

When the jet of red light hurtled her way, she accepted it. She _hadn't_ been expecting to be knocked out of its path.

She gaped at the man on top of her. "Thomas," she gasped out. "You—"

"Shh." He pulled her to her feet and yanked her into an empty classroom, finally turning to look at her.

Her hands were shaking. She lifted her chin up, trying to feign confidence, but she was rattled. "I didn't need your—"

"Yeah, but it's what soulmates do, isn't it?" The words were sharp and accusatory; Pansy looked down at her feet.

"You don't know what it's like," she said bitterly, "my world."

"I spent a year on the run from families like yours," he answered dryly. "I think I have a good idea." He paused for a moment, then added, "What I want to know is, are you like them?"

She bit her lip. "What if I said I am?"

"Then I would leave," he warned, "and never come back."

She understood what he meant. "And if I said I wasn't?"

"Then I would be willing to give this" —he tapped his wrist, where her name was printed cleanly— "another try."

She thought about it carefully. She wished, suddenly, she knew what sort of person Dean was; she could be giving everything up for him.

"I must look a mess." Maybe he wouldn't want a perfect girl, like other men seemed to.

He looked at her, covered in blood and grime—and shook his head. "You look beautiful."

 _Unconditionally._ She blew her hair from her face. "Let's give this a try, then."

He grinned.


	56. Countdown

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for HPFC and Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 475**

 **Enjoy!**

Gabrielle grinned as Fleur stared down at her timer, wide-eyed.

"Go on then," she urged her older sister. "If you just sit here, you'll miss them!"

They were in a small coffee shop, barely occupied, which was definitely good for finding soulmates, in Gabrielle's opinion. The timer was nearly ready to stop, but Fleur couldn't look away from her wrist.

"What if 'e isn't 'ere?" she asked, accent much thicker than Gabrielle's.

The younger of the two women rolled her eyes. "Then you wouldn't be so close to running out of time. Come on, don't you want this?"

"Of course I do!"

"Then get up and—and do something!" Gabrielle waved her hands around for emphasis.

Fleur's blue eyes were wide with panic. "But what?"

Gabrielle shrugged and flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder. "I dunno. Whatever you decide is what you were meant to do, so don't worry about it." She winked at her sister, who didn't seem impressed by her suggestion.

Still, Fleur stood up and, biting her lip, asked Gabrielle, "What sort of coffee would you like?"

The young woman's brows flew up to her hairline, but she answered anyway. "Er. A caramel latte, please."

Fleur nodded and headed up to the counter. Gabrielle had to cran her neck carefully to get a glimpse of her sister's timer. One and a half minutes left.

She watched Fleur order in her heavy French accent. Gabrielle was a little disappointed that the barista wasn't her sister's soulmate—that would have been very romantic, she thought. Fleur, too, looked a bit let down as she turned back with the coffees in hand.

She was nearly at the table when a barista—late, judging by the state of his uniform and the way he was rushing—crashed into her, spilling hot coffee over the both of them.

Gabrielle grinned widely as she caught sight of her sister's wrist—time was up. The handsome redhead that was trying so desperately to mop up her squawking sister was her future brother-in-law. She sat back in her chair and watched the chaos with a grin on her face, which Fleur noticed. But Gabrielle was used to ignoring her sister's death glares; they were a fairly regular thing.

Eventually, though, Gabrielle decided that it would be best if she stepped in.

She went over and tapped the man on her shoulder, doing her best to appear stern when all she really wanted to do was laugh. "Sir" —she noticed the name tag said Bill— "I do believe you owe my sister some coffee after all this. But I really do have to dash, so I'll see the two of you later."

She winked at Bill and pointed subtly at his wrist. His eyes widened when he made the connection, and Gabrielle grinned before hurrying out of the cafe.

She hoped their date went well.


	57. Can't Run, Can't Hide

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for HPFC. DeanSeamus**

 **Word Count: 487**

 **Enjoy!**

Dean wasn't really paying much attention to Professor McGonagall—a potentially deadly mistake, but it was what it was. He was bored out of his mind, and he wished more than anything that Seamus was there to keep him company. Things were never dull when his boyfriend was around.

Dean was in the middle of writing notes (and doodling in their margins) when a hot wave of shame suddenly washed over him. He dropped his quill, his hands trembling slightly, and tried in vain to still his erratic breathing. Dean's dark eyes glanced around the room, struggling to figure out what could have caused such a strong emotion, before he realized that these weren't his own feelings.

They must be Seamus'.

Dean pushed his hand up in the air, ignoring his burning face. "Professor? I have to use the loo." His voice came out as a croak, and the severe-looking woman peered at him closely before nodding curtly.

"Go ahead, then, Mr. Thomas."

Dean shot out of the room after gathering up his supplies, then hurried into the corridors. Seamus should be in Charms, he knew, so he hurried in that direction. It didn't take long to find the other boy; Dean was passing by the loo when he saw movement in the corner of his vision. He turned to see Seamus splashing water on his impossibly red face.

Dean leaned against the doorframe, his brow creased with worry. Seamus must have felt this sudden shift in emotion, because his eyes locked onto Dean's through the mirror. "'Lo," he muttered.

"Are you all right?" Dean asked immediately.

His boyfriend shrugged. "Yeah. Blew another thing up in Charms. Flitwick asked me to take a cooler." A large grin spread over Seamus' face, but you couldn't fool someone who shared your emotions. "I'm pants at Charms, you know that."

"That is so bullshit, and you know it," Dean told him firmly. "You're fine at it. Just nerves from after the war."

Seamus was silent for a long time. "The Carrows didn't like it when I messed up." He turned to face Dean fully, his eyes desperate; Dean could _feel_ the fear and hopelessness that was overwhelming his boyfriend. "But Flitwick wouldn't _do_ that."

Dean felt a pang, remembering all the times when he'd felt utterly desolate when he spent his year on the run, knowing that it was because Seamus was suffering. Her remembered tasting the terror and numbness that accompanied most days.

But he also knew that those days were over, and he could do something about it, now.

He walked over and embraced his boyfriend, pulling him close. "No, he wouldn't. No one is going to do that to you ever again. And your confidence will come back, Seamus."

He heard a weak laugh. "Aye. Maybe it will."

Dean pulled back slightly so he could kiss the other boy straight on the mouth. "I know it will."

 **A/N:**

 **365 Words: 37. Vision**

 **Insane House: 251. "Oh, that is so bullshit and you know it."**

 **SF: Guess the Name: Dean - write a slash pairing**

 **NF: Splash a Mod: Lo: (character) Seamus Finnegan**

 **EF: Wedding Chapel: Shocker - DeanSeamus**


	58. One Day

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 409**

 **Enjoy!**

Harry looked up at the ceiling, his green eyes heavy with sleep. It kept eluding him, though; Dudley was jumping around his room again, and Harry couldn't catch a wink.

With a sigh, the eight-year-old rolled over onto his side and grabbed a pen he'd taken from Uncle Vernon's desk a week prior. Luckily, the man wasn't neat and hadn't noticed the pen go missing. Harry uncapped it, hesitated a moment, then wrote a message on his arm.

 _Are you awake?_

The reply came just a few minutes later: _Yes._

The simple reply didn't surprise Harry; his soulmate, it seemed, wasn't one for words. Harry didn't mind, though. It was nice to have someone who would listen to him.

He felt himself flush slightly as he admitted the reason he was writing. _I've been locked in the cupboard again. It's lonely._

The reply was almost immediate, this time. _Mummy says that isn't okay. She never locks me in the cupboard. Maybe you should come live with us._

Harry sighed to himself. There was no doubt in his mind that Aunt Petunia wouldn't allow that. Still, he could dream.

 _If we lived together, what would we do?_

 _Play Quidditch. You would like Quidditch._

Harry frowned at his arm. Quidditch? He shook his head slightly. His soulmate said the strangest things sometimes. He'd learned to roll with it, though.

 _What's Quidditch?_

His soulmate went on to explain the rules of Quidditch—which, Harry deduced, must be a game his soulmate made up. No one could ride on brooms, after all, and there were no such things as quaffles, bludgers, and snitches. Harry liked listening, though. He was glad that his soulmate's parents hadn't stifled his imagination.

Harry could only imagine in private, now. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia didn't even like dreams.

Harry yawned after a while, growing sleepy as he read the notes his soulmate was leaving on his arm. Harry wasn't afraid to fall asleep. He and his soulmate did this a lot, and the other person never complained when Harry failed to answer them.

When Harry could keep his eyes open no longer, he quickly scrawled a message: _I'm going to bed._ And then, as an afterthought, _What's your name? You never told me._

There was a hesitation, and then the elegant writing appeared. _Draco. What's your name?_

 _Harry._

 _Goodnight, Harry._

Harry smiled. _Good night, Draco._

Then be rolled over in bed and slept until sunrise, happy and content.


	59. Never Letting Go

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 476**

 **WARNINGS: Grieving, mentioned canon character death**

 **Enjoy!**

Molly felt arms snake around her waist. She tilted her head back, letting it fall against her husband's chest. He didn't say anything, which she appreciated. She didn't have the energy to respond.

He held her for a long time in their kitchen, gently stroking the hair back from her face. Frank Longbottom's patronus had come only an hour ago, delivering the bad news. Molly's brothers—not just her _brother_ , but _both_ of them—were dead. Gone, without a goodbye. It was too much to bear.

At one point, she began crying inconsolably. Arthur merely held her and quietly shooed the boys away if they came peeking around the corner.

"Fabian and Gideon," she moaned, shaking. "Arthur… they…"

"They were heroes," he said softly, grimly. "They did it to protect us, Molly."

"I know." She felt him brush the hair from her forehead. "Bill, Charlie, Percy… the twins" —she placed a hand on her pregnant stomach— "they'll hardly remember their uncles."

Arthur's blue eyes were filled with sorrow, but his answer was full of determination. "We'll tell our boys about them—we won't forget."

She nodded slowly. Then she turned to Arthur and met his eyes. "How are you feeling?"

He hesitated. He couldn't lie to her—their soulmate bond prevented him from doing so—but he looked reluctant to speak. "If I answer," he said slowly, "I'm going to ask you the same thing. Are you going to retract your question?"

Molly it her lip as she thought about it. On one hand, she really didn't want to discuss this turn of events in much detail. On the other, she needed to share with someone, and without the choice to lie… unloading might be that much easier.

She brushed her knuckles along his freckled cheekbones. "No. Please tell me."

"I miss them," he croaked out, "terribly. They were my brother-in-laws, Molly. It's not going to be easy living without them." He shifted slightly so he could look down at her from a better angle. "What about you?"

Her eyes filled with tears, and she looked away. "I can't believe they're gone," she whispered. Her voice was choked and shaky, but the words rolled off her tongue easily; after being in a relationship so long with Arthur, it was only on very rare occasions that they minded being completely honest with each other. "I keep expecting them to burst through the door and make all of this seem like a nightmare."

Arthur took her hands in his, his blue eyes meeting her brown ones seriously. "That's not going to happen, Mollywobbles."

The truth, as much as she wanted to deny it, slipped from her lips. "I know."

Arthur brought her close to his chest once more. "I'm here for you," he murmured, "whenever you need me."

She burst into fresh tears, but Arthur didn't let go; Molly knew he never would.


	60. Take My Hand

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. Prompts are below! :)**

 **Note: An AU where Regulus never went to Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 953**

 **Enjoy!**

It was a normal Saturday night for James. The Leaky Cauldron was crowded with patrons at various stages of drunkenness, the noise was almost unbearable, and there were men waiting to snatch up fallen coins with greedy fingers.

James was in his element.

The chaotic atmosphere… he loved it. This was his air, stale with beer and hot with the mass of bodies occupying it. It wasn't beautiful, there wasn't any order to it, it was a disgusting mess; it was a reflection of life. And there was nothing James Potter liked more than truth.

He slipped off his glasses and cleaned the lenses on the hem of his robes. His hazel eyes were wide and alert as he surveyed the pub. He was, unfortunately, not here on his own time; this was a scouting mission for the Order.

At least, it started out that way before a pair of silver eyes caught his attention.

James was floored at the man made his way over, looking just as curious. It was seconds before James realized that the man looked an awful lot like Sirius—too much, in fact—

And then James was not seeing the pub in front of him. The patrons vanished, the noise muted itself, and he was suddenly standing in a dark room. A few feet in front of him stood a young boy and someone James instinctively knew must be his father.

"Regulus," the older man murmured, "it is time."

The young boy—he couldn't be more than seventeen, James thought—lifted his chin. "Yes, Father."

Orion Black, James realized. This was Sirius and Regulus' father.

Orion's cold eyes glittered with pride as he laid a gentle hand on his youngest son's shoulder. "You will make this family proud," he told him. "You will secure us a place in the new world—a better world."

Regulus' dark hair fell in front of his face as he lowered his head slightly. "Thank you, Father."

Orion nodded, pride written all over his features—but it was a twisted pride, one that made James sick to witness. He knew what was going to happen—he knew what the younger Black was—but he also knew that this was a memory, impossible to change.

Which presented another problem. A person only saw flashbacks from another person's life if they were soulmates.

Regulus Black was James' soulmate, and he was at a loss as to how he should react.

Meanwhile, Regulus and Orion had disappeared into another room. James couldn't move, so he waited, trying to come up with a solution for the problem at hand. Regulus was a Death Eater, yes. He was no doubt getting the mark at this very moment. But now he was James' soulmate.

James should feel disgusted. He shouldn't be seen giving any affection to someone who might very well be a murderer, or someone who was capable of being cruel to another because of their heritage.

But James had seen the terror in his eyes moments ago. He'd seen the way Regulus' shoulders had tensed, and he remembered how sad Sirius had seemed when he'd admitted to James that Regulus had not always been on their parents' side.

James was a believer in truth, and it did not seem to him like Regulus wanted the mark. And besides that, James was a firm believer in second chances.

Orion and Regulus came back into the room, then, the Black heir clutching his left forearm. His teeth were clenched and his face was white with pain, something Orion missed as he congratulated his son.

The memory ended, and James found himself in front of the Death Eater. He looked down at Regulus, who was sprawled on the floor; he must have fallen with surprise when thrown into one of James' memories.

They stared at one another in shock for a moment. Eventually, Regulus snapped out of it. "Stop staring at me and help me," he commanded, but there was a tremor in his voice James hadn't heard before.

The Gryffindor obeyed. He took a moment to appreciate the Black brother that had been sent to Durmstrang; he was very much like Sirius, yes, but with subtle differences that were, admittedly, appealing. "So." He stuck his hands in his robe pockets. "We're soulmates, then."

It was the stupidest thing to say, and he immediately felt foolish.

Regulus closed those silver eyes and groaned. "What did I do to deserve this?" James heard him mutter. "Could tonight get any worse?"

James tilted his head to the side and ran his fingers through his dark hair; if he messed the locks up even further, he didn't particularly care. "What do you mean?"

Regulus stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. "You don't need to know, Potter. I need to find my brother, so get out of my way."

He tried to side-step James, but the Gryffindor was persistent.

"You know who I am. How?"

Regulus scowled. "Your memory made it more than clear."

Well, that was fair. James bit his lip. "Taking the mark" —Regulus hissed and tried to shush him— "was it your best or worst memory?"

Regulus froze, searching James' hazel eyes for any sign of hostility. Realizing he had to try to put the younger boy at ease, he whispered, "If it was your worst… I think we can try something, if you'd like."

Regulus' hesitation told him all he needed to know, but he wanted to hear the boy say it for himself.

"Worst," Regulus finally muttered.

James breathed a sigh of relief. He held out his hand. "In that case… let me take you to Sirius."

It was almost a full minute until he did so, but Regulus took James' hand.

 **A/N:**

 **342\. Greedy**

 **273\. "Stop staring at me and help me."**

 **SF: Test Your Strength: God: Silver**

 **NF: Splash a Mod: Angel: "What did I do to deserve this?"**

 **EF: Wedding Chapel: Shocker: JamesRegulus**


	61. Will You Stay?

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts and HPFC. Prompts are below :)**

 **Word Count Challenge: "I thought you loved me.", image, embarrassed**

 **Agricultural Studies Task 1: Write about someone feeling unwanted**

 **Word Count: 501**

 **WARNINGS: Implied child neglect, language**

 **Enjoy!**

"I thought you loved me."

The admission was breathless and quiet, but embarrassment still flooded Piers as he watched Dean turn back to him.

"I—sorry?"

Piers didn't want to repeat it; it was slowly dawning on him what a grave, grave mistake he'd made. But Dean was looking at him expectantly, and when had he ever been able to deny him anything? He lifted his chin, recalling the days when he'd been able to summon false strength in Dudley's gang. He could fake being tough; he could fake being brave.

"I thought you loved me." His voice was steadier this time.

Dean had the decency to look guilty. "Were we ever going to work, Piers?" he asked softly. "There were... so many obstacles."

Dean's voice was heavy, and Piers was wishing with all his might that Dean wouldn't leave like everyone else had.

He should have known that he was never enough to make anyone stay.

But he never learned, so he stuck out his wrist, where the compass soulmark was pointing north, towards Dean. "Look. It's going to be okay. We can work through it all—"

"Piers—"

"No, just—just fucking listen to me!" Piers ran his hands through his dark hair, breathing heavily. He was a raging storm of both fury and hopelessness, and it left him with the desire to do _something_ , but also the knowledge that nothing he does will work. He was stuck in limbo, and, as always, someone else held the cards. "Dean, we're supposed to be together. I love you." He laughed almost hysterically. "I _love_ you. I thought you felt the same."

Dean's pain was clear in his eyes. Slowly, he held out his own dark hand to Piers. The compass soulmark was there—but its arrow wasn't pointing at Piers.

Something within him broke.

"I'm sorry," Dean whispered. His voice was rough and filled to the brim with guilt. "It hasn't been you for a while now."

The wizard looked at him for a long moment before disappearing with a _crack._ Piers looked down at his soulmark, unable to comprehend what he'd seen, the image of Dean's tired face burned into his mind. He watched, numbly, as a crack appeared on the surface of the compass. It grew bigger and bigger until the whole thing was just shattered remains.

Yet the arrow still pointed north.

Destined to love someone who could never love him back. He thought of his parents, who never were interested in their child; he thought of Dudley, the man he'd nearly abandoned the idea of soulmates for, his first love; now he could add Dean's name to the list—the man who was only there to torture him.

Piers closed his eyes. He should have expected this, he should have known that something so wonderful couldn't last. He laughed bitterly at himself, shaking his head slightly. He wasn't meant to be around people; he was only meant to watch from afar, wishing.

Maybe one day, it would be enough for him.

 **A/N:**

" **I thought you loved me."**

 **Embarrassed**

 **Image**

 **Day 6: compass, angst**

 **80\. Tough**

 **267\. "Were we ever going to work?**


	62. Bliss

A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.

Photography Task 3: Write about someone who hates mess/clutter

Note: This is an established relationship fic. If you want to read my PercyDraco get together, it's called Still Standing :)

Word Count: 437

Enjoy!

Few people realized it, but Percy Weasley was a slob.

Not to say that he wasn't brilliant—on the contrary, he was the smartest person Draco had ever met. But the fact remained that there was very little order to this chaos. It drove Draco absolutely mad.

"How do you even find anything in here?" he asked, nose wrinkled, as he surveyed his boyfriend's desk. Papers were thrown haphazardly about, quills were scattered everywhere, and Draco wasn't sure, but he thought the inkwells might be rebelling.

It seemed like something Fred and George would do.

Percy's head appeared out of the monstrosity. His glasses sat on his nose crooked, much like his father's, and his normally impeccable hair was in disarray. It was distressing.

"Accio," Percy answered with a small grin. "Works every time." 

Draco sniffed. "You're hopeless."

Percy laughed. "But you love me anyway."

He did. Merlin help him, he did. Percy had been the one to give him another chance after the war, the one who made him feel loved again. Still, he wasn't about to let the other man get away with this untidiness; it just wasn't healthy.

"You realize you're making Weasley look neat, don't you?" he tried. "And I don't mean any of the brothers I can stand."

Percy snorted. "Ron is worse than this, I can assure you."

Draco shuddered. "I never thought I would pity Granger." He never thought he'd marry into her family one day, either, but there he was, six years after the war and engaged. It was enough to lift his spirits no matter what mood he was in. Such giddiness was odd to him, but he found that he didn't hate it.

Percy laughed. "Yes, well. Ron's always been a special case, hasn't he? And Hermione is more than capable of looking after herself."

Draco rolled his grey eyes, but he was smiling. He grabbed a stack of papers off of Percy's desk and began straightening up.

Percy looked amused. "What are you doing?"

"You may be content in this pig sty, but I'm not. Finish up here and let's go home; it's been a long day."

Percy chuckled and nodded. "We're not leaving until this place is orderly, are we?"

"I did say it was a long day."

Percy reached out and grabbed Draco's charcoal tie. He gently pulled Draco down until their lips met. "I love you," Percy murmured against his mouth.

Draco smiled. "Mmm. I love you, too."

When they left a few hours later, the office still wasn't tidy, per se, but Draco was grinning anyway as Percy pulled him through the Floo.


	63. From the Depths

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Photography Task 6: Entire story must take place underwater**

 **Word Count: 442**

 **Enjoy!**

He'd never been very good at Transfiguration, especially not in such a stressful setting. Still, Viktor couldn't complain; there wasn't enough time to. He had to save Hermione.

He tore through the water, his shark eyes scanning the lake for signs of movement. He didn't know where to go, exactly, so he just swam deeper on impulse. The water was cool against his skin, and the water filtering through his gills was strange but not unpleasant. The lake was lit in an eerie glow, providing just enough light to see by.

Viktor, if he could have, would have sighed to himself. He'd never been much of a swimmer, but this Tournament was so important to his headmaster. He couldn't let his school down—they depended on him.

Sometimes he missed the days before his Quidditch success.

Karkaroff hadn't really known him then. There hadn't been any pressure to perform well or be the best; he'd simply been the Krum boy. And while he loved the sport with an undying passion, he also loved his privacy. That was nonexistent now.

He shook his head. The lake. The second task. _Hermione._ He had to rescue her.

He conjured the image of her. Wild, curly brown hair hanging in front of large brown eyes, slightly too large front teeth, a sharp tongue and an even sharper mind… She was beautiful, to say the least. Even better than that, she didn't care that he was a famous Quidditch player—she didn't have much love for the sport. He found he didn't mind; she was interested in him, and that was everything.

Viktor swam for a while longer, spurred on by the thought of Hermione. He doubted that the headmasters would let her come to any harm, but he wasn't sure how long the enchantment would last. He didn't want her to wake up alone without any clue what had happened to her.

And then—he found them.

There was Harry Potter. He'd taken gillyweed, it looked like. Viktor wanted to kick himself for not thinking of that. He identified Hermione immediately and swam hurriedly over, trying desperately to cut the ropes binding her with his teeth. Harry must have seen his trouble, because he handed Viktor a sharp rock to use. Hermione was in his arms soon after that, and he swam towards the surface of the lake as quickly as he could.

His head broke the surface, and he untransfigured himself. He gasped on the shore, staring down at Hermione worriedly as people shouted around him.

After a moment, she opened her brown eyes and smiled weakly at him, a faint blush on her cheeks.

Viktor's heart soared.


	64. Sleepless

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 498**

 **Enjoy!**

Neville was staring out the bedroom window when he heard her get out of bed. He approached slowly, blinking the sleep from her eyes and shivering as the warmth of the blankets left her. He watched her reflection in the mirror with a small smile on his face.

"Neville?" she croaked. "Come back to bed, it's" —she squinted at the clock on the nightstand— "two in the morning."

Neville ran a hand through his brown hair and shook his head slightly. "I can't sleep," he murmured. "You go back to bed, though—I don't want to be the reason you're still up."

Hannah frowned. "Too late." She walked closer to him and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "What's the matter?"

He wasn't sure what to say. Instead of the words he wished would come, his gaze drifted to her belly, which would not be as flat in a few month's time.

Hannah's blue eyes followed his gaze. "Ah," she murmured. "Worried about being a father?"

Neville shrugged. He wanted to pretend that everything was fine; that he was only excited. But he was terrified, too. "I just… want to be a good dad."

Hannah ran her fingers through his hair, an action she knew comforted him. "You will be." She said it with so much confidence he could almost believe her.

Almost.

"My dad wasn't ever around," Neville murmured. "He couldn't be. All I had was Gran."

His wife smiled at him. "She did a good job of it," she pointed out.

The corners of Neville's lips turned up slightly. "She did," he agreed. But then his face fell again. "But I still don't know how… what's a good dad like, anyway?"

Hannah stood up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Neville," she said kindly, yet firmly, "you are a brilliant wizard. You are kind, and good, and so, so brave. You have the biggest heart of anyone I've ever met. If our child grows up like you—and your influence will be enough to make that happen—then I'll be happy."

Neville peered at her closely. "You think being there will be enough?"

"I think being yourself around our child will be enough," she corrected. Then she yawned and stretched. Her blonde hair was mussed from the pillow, and there were still creases on her face; Neville remembered the time.

"You should go back to bed," he said gently. His mouth quirked up. "I promise I'll come join you in a minute."

Hannah hesitated, studying him closely. "Are you sure you're all right?"

Neville's eyes were tender as he bent down to kiss her forehead; she really was a tiny thing, and he loved it. "I'm sure."

He watched her pad back to bed, a smile on his face. When he eventually went to lay beside her, suddenly exhausted, he couldn't help but smile in the direction of their baby.

He was nervous, yes. But he was so, so excited to start this new journey will her.


	65. Anniversary

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 402**

 **WARNINGS: Language, mentioned homophobia**

 **Enjoy!**

A soft kiss wakes Dean up from his slumber.

"Mmph." He groaned and rolled over, batting away the pair of lips that are trying to chase him. "Go 'way."

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Seamus chirped. Dean could practically hear his grin. "It goes against the anniversary laws, you know."

It was much too early for him to process those words, but once he did Dean sat up with a frown. "Anniversary laws?" He and Seamus began dating three months ago; he wasn't aware that there was any sort of protocol for that…

"A year ago today, you kissed me to show those homophobic bastards a thing or two," Seamus reminded him fondly, dropping a quick peck to his boyfriend's cheek. "It was our first kiss."

Dean remembered that day. He'd just broken up with Ginny, suspicious of his own feelings for one of the boys in his dorm. He'd turned the corner to see Seamus brandishing his wand at a trio of older Ravenclaws, his eye black and lip bloody. Dean, of course, had run up to defend his friend, and one thing led to another—

He never regretted the day, to say the least.

Dean blinked in surprise, then shoved his boyfriend's shoulder with a laugh. "You're daft. And I never thought you were the romantic type," he added.

Seamus nodded sagely, false seriousness flooding his features. "There's a lot you don't know about me."

Dean rolled his eyes, but he grinned wide enough to show off his dimples—which he knew Seamus loved. "Fine, then. What do you have planned for this anniversary?"

Seamus ran a hand through his dark hair and grinned. "There's that Quidditch match today," he suggested. "We could go together."

Dean laughed a little. "We go to every match together," he pointed out. He got up out of bed and stretched. "But yeah. I like that idea."

Seamus grinned and bounced on the balls of his feet, a habit that endeared him to Dean. "Brilliant. Come on, let's go down to breakfast. There's lots to do today."

Dean chuckled, but quickly put on the clothes his boyfriend threw impatiently at him. Excitement bubbled up within him; today was going to be a great day. He could feel it.

He straightened up once he was finished and pulled Seamus in for a quick kiss. "Right then," he said when he pulled away. He grinned. "Let's go."


	66. Don't Look Back

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 509**

 **Enjoy!**

"You can't honestly tell me you're leaving."

Daphne wanted to flinch at the betrayed tone of Cho's voice, but she kept her face carefully stoic. She glanced back at the other girl, whose dark eyes were filled with tears—she always was emotionally driven.

Daphne pursed her lips. "I have to."

"Why?" Cho demanded. "Why do you have to go?"

Daphne huffed with frustration. "There's a war on, and my family has chosen its side."

"You're not your family," Cho pointed out. "You could stay here. With me." She approached Daphne slowly, looking imploringly up at the other girl. She took Daphne's hands in her own. "I love you," she said softly. "I wish you would stay."

Daphne did flinch this time. Cho had never grown up in a household like Daphne's own; she'd never felt the pressure to produce an heir, to marry into a wealthy family, to find some way to save her little sister from a curse that had haunted the family for generations…

The Dark Lord's ranks promised all of that and more. It was a chance. Daphne couldn't waste it. If Cho was the sacrifice she had to make… then so be it.

She pulled her hands away, feeling the loss immediately. "I wish love was enough for us."

Daphne walked to the door, leaving Cho stunned in her wake. Before she could leave the room, however, her girlfriend spoke again.

"I mean this little to you?" The tears were falling now; Daphne wanted so badly to go and wipe them away, but her feet stayed stubbornly planted. "You'd throw us away just like that?"

Daphne licked her lips, her dark hair falling over her face as her head ducked. She was overwhelmed, suddenly, with the desire to make Cho understand just how much she was hurting, how much she was giving up. That she was doing this because it was hard, because she had no choice.

But that seemed so selfish when it wouldn't do anything but give the Ravenclaw false hope.

On the other hand, Daphne had always been a selfish person.

"I don't want to leave," she said hoarsely. "But I can't afford to be on the losing side of this war."

Cho stared at her. "If you walk through that door," she said softly, "you will be."

"You have that much faith in Potter?" Daphne asked bitterly, absurdly jealous despite the fact that the one date the two shared had gone terribly.

Cho knew what she was thinking. "Stop it, you know I'm not in love with Harry." She looked so angry. "And yes, I do have faith in him. He's pulled through before, he'll do it again."

"He's seventeen," Daphne argued. "He's going to die."

"He won't," Cho said confidently. "Not as long as there are people who will stand by him."

Daphne looked at the other girl for a long moment. "You can stand beside him," she murmured at last, turning back towards the door, "but I won't be."

With those words, she left, and she didn't look back.


	67. Fine As We Are

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 343**

 **Enjoy!**

Harry was wailing, and Lily was about ready to kill James.

"I'll watch the baby," Lily mocked under her breath as she hurried outside to where they'd been playing. "I've got this."

Her red hair flying behind her, Lily ran out into the yard. She glanced around until she saw Harry on the ground by a tree, crying into James' shoulder beside a broken broomstick.

Lily marched over, glared at James, and then knelt by Harry's side. The little one-year-old whimpered and reached out to her, his green eyes wide and upset. Lily picked him up, shushing him softly.

"There there, Harry, I've got you," she murmured. She inspected his body and found some torn skin on his palm. She took his hand and raised it to her lips. "Mummy will kiss it better," she promised. She pecked his palm, watching his crying die down a bit. After a second, he squirmed until she put him back down, and he toddled away after something else that had caught his attention.

Lily turned to her husband, her arms crossed. "What happened?" she demanded.

James winced. "He got a little excited on the broom," he admitted. "I couldn't quite keep up with it; he crashed into me, really, when I got in front of it. It jarred him more than anything, I think."

Lily frowned, noticing for the first time how James' glasses had been knocked askew. Her previous irritation melted away. "Are you hurt?"

James held up his left arm; the forearm was skinned. "A bit," he admitted. Then his face brightened. "Kiss it better?"

Lily snorted, but she walked over to comply. "You're ridiculous, did you know that?"

Her husband grinned. "But you love me anyway."

Lily's eyes softened. "Yeah," she said quietly. "I do."

James waited until she'd kissed his injury before lacing their fingers together. "Let's go see our boy," he suggested.

Lily laid her head on his shoulder and nodded. As they walked through the yard to see Harry, she couldn't help but think that everything was pretty much perfect.


	68. All Was Well

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 515**

 **Enjoy!**

Tonks laughed as Teddy ran into the kitchen, turquoise hair in disarray and a grin too wide for his face.

"Mummy!" he exclaimed when he saw her. "Can I have some?"

Tonks reached down to ruffle the little boy's hair. "Sure thing, Ted-o." She handed him the chocolate-covered spoon and he immediately dug in, joy lighting up his face. "You're just like your dad, you know," she added fondly.

"Who's just like me?"

Tonks glanced towards the kitchen door just as her husband walked through, a soft smile on his scarred face.

"Teddy," she answered simply. She grabbed another spoon and scraped the edge of the bowl with it, then handed it to Remus. "I was telling him how much you enjoy your chocolate."

Remus took the spoon with pleasure, his pink tongue darting in and out as he licked off the cake batter. It was almost like watching Teddy, except the man stayed considerably cleaner. "All I'm hearing," Remus muttered with a grin, "is that the boy has god taste."

Tonks snorted and punched him lightly on the shoulder before grabbing a spoon for herself. Remus watched her, a brow slightly raised.

"I know that face," he said slowly. "What do you want to tell me?" He glanced down at the utensil in his hand. "And what's the cake for?"

"A celebration," Tonks replied easily. It wasn't much of a clue; she tended to celebrate the most mundane things, which Remus knew.

"Hmm." He tilted his head to the side, thinking. "You're home from work early," he noted. "Case go well?"

"Nah, Mum had to run somewhere and all I had was paperwork that I could take home. Try again."

"Er… promotion?"

She laughed. "I'm Head Auror, Remus. There's nothing else I'd rather be."

Remus scratched his head, the light catching on his tawny curls. "Are you and Minerva conspiring against me again? Have I fallen into your trap?"

Tonks shook her head and sauntered over to Remus, throwing her arms around him neck. "No, mister deputy headmaster. I promised getting you to accept that position would be the last time I conspired with Minerva."

Remus' amber eyes bore into Tonks' violet ones. "I give up, then. Tell me."

Tonks took a step back and clasped her hands together. "Remus," she began, "I'm pregnant."

The spoon nearly slipped from his hand. "Pregnant?" he breathed.

She nodded, worrying her lip. He hadn't taken well to Teddy's birth announcement, but they'd come so far—the world had come so far—from those prejudiced days.

"Dora." He beamed suddenly at her, throwing the spoon onto the counter and embracing her tightly. "Dora, that's amazing. We're—Merlin." He laughed, ecstatic, then released her to explain to a confused-looking Teddy.

Tonks sighed, relieved and so, so happy. It was nice to see Remus' knew confidence in himself as a father—and of course, the knowledge that lycanthropy wasn't hereditary helped too.

She glanced down at her abdomen, which wouldn't be flat for much longer. When she glanced back at her excited husband and son, her own joy at extending their family grew tenfold.


	69. Untethered

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 667**

 **WARNINGS: Graphic character death, violence**

 **Enjoy!**

"Remus," Tonks gasped, falling to her knees beside her lover. "No, no, shit Remus, no—"

She caught a glimpse of amber through the slits of his eyes. "Dora…"

His voice was weak and frail, barely audible. Tonks could feel her heartbeat quicken, which wasn't fair, because a hand to the chest confirmed that Remus' was slowing…

"Don't you dare die on me Remus fucking Lupin," she growled, gripping his shoulders tightly with her bloody hands—hands that were covered in his blood. "Don't you dare. We are supposed to be married tomorrow."

The tears were flowing freely now, but Tonks won't relinquish her hold on him. Somehow she thought that she could hold the life within him, keep him alive if she just held on tightly enough—

"Dora," Remus whispered, "I love you. And… I'm sorry."

Tonks glanced down at the dagger sticking out of Remus' side, knowing better than to remove it. A second look made her notice the deadly purple shade the veins around the wound were turning; the knife was poisoned.

She considered taking the knife out now, but she didn't have an antidote. She heard Remus gasp and knew, with sudden clarity, that she couldn't keep the life within him if something was eating at it from the inside out.

She wanted to scream, and sob, and kill Bellatrix Lestrange, but leaving Remus' side felt like abandoning him.

And she'd never been able to do that.

"You don't have anything to apologize for," she said sharply. "Merlin, Remus, this isn't your fault!"

The wry smile that she had fallen so quickly in love with lit up his face. "I meant for waiting so long. I should have loved you when I had the chance."

Tonks shook her head slowly. "Don't talk like that," she begged, all her strength gone. "We'll live. Of course we'll live."

His hand, pale and fluttering with the strain, came up to grasp her wrist. "You know that's not true," he croaked. "Let's not waste time… time with false hope." He grimaced as a wave of pain washed over him. His skin was clammy and much too cold. "I want to marry you before I die."

Her lip wobbled. Around them the battle raged, but they were in their own little bubble. "And I want to be married to you," she agreed softly.

So she conjured a couple of rings. There was no officiant around, no witnesses. It wasn't a marriage that would be recognized by the law, but it was real, because they'd worked so hard for it and loved each other so much.

Tonks spluttered through her vows, barely managing to get the words out through her ugly sobbing, but there was a smile on her face. She was still marrying Remus, no matter how heartbreaking the circumstance. And as long as she had Remus, she was happy.

She might only be happy a few minutes more, but she wouldn't let herself dwell on that.

Remus recited his own carefully written vows, spoken with the simple eloquence that Tonks had always loved about him. He paused multiple times when the pain got to be too much, but plowed determinedly onward.

When he finished, she slipped the ring on his finger and he clumsily did the same with hers. He smiled contentedly. "I love you," he murmured. "Don't forget."

Tonks ducked her head, her grey eyes swimming with tears and her hair a lank brown. "I won't," she promised. "But don't you dare forget that I love you, too."

He chuckled slightly. "I won't." His breathing was quickening, and Tonks squeezed his hand more tightly. "Dora," he said, suddenly urgent, "I'm going to miss you."

Her shoulders were shaking violently. "I'm going to miss you too, love." She bent down and kissed him deeply, her lover, her husband, her everything. She poured all she was into that kiss; her love, her compassion, her spirit, her strength.

In the end, it wasn't enough to keep him tethered to the earth.


	70. All He Needed

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 425**

 **Enjoy!**

Draco was in the middle of a sea of redheads, and he did not appreciate it.

With difficulty, he twisted on the sofa until he was facing his boyfriend. "I thought you said tonight would be fun," he hissed.

Charlie grinned at him innocently. "This is how we spend Fridays, love," he quipped. "By watching a Muggle film with the family and—"

"Cuddling," George, from Draco's other side, cut in with a mischievous smile.

Draco's grey eyes darkened. "There's a difference between being cuddled and crushed," he grumbled. "This is definitely the latter."

Charlie laughed and slung an arm around his lover, trapping Draco further. Draco grumbled, annoyed, but he softened slightly when Charlie placed a kiss on his chin.

This was soon ruined, however, by Weasley—the aggravating one.

"Gross." Ron shoved his brother's shoulder, his elbow knocking into Draco's head; he was perched on top of the back of the sofa. It really was a miracle the furniture hadn't broken. "Save that for later, won't you?"

Charlie's tanned, freckled face broke into a grin as he pulled Draco even more tightly against him. "You're just jealous that Hermione couldn't make it, Ron."

Ron scowled, which (in Draco's opinion) really wasn't as intimidating as a war hero's ought to have been. "That's not true, and you know it. I'm not jealous of you and _Malfoy_."

Never one to pass up the opportunity to slight his younger brother, George winked. "Just jealous of Charlie, then?"

Charlie, Ron, and Draco all gagged, and the Malfoy heir sent a well-aimed kick to George's knee, sending him sprawling and knocking Percy from his precarious perch—who took Ron down with him. His right side suddenly free of people, Draco rolled his shoulder with a contented smile. "Ah. There we go," he said with satisfaction. "I think we're ready to start this film now, aren't we?"

It was still odd to him that his heavy scorn was actually what some would call a sense of humor, but he'd sent Charlie, Bill, and Ginny howling. The three on the floor were muttering darkly, of course, but the only one Draco felt remotely bad about was Percy. George and Ron he could live with upsetting.

Charlie's chuckles died down as he started up the film. The other three piled right back on Draco (which he should have expected, in hindsight; Weasleys weren't ones to stay down, even when kicked), but he found that he didn't mind quite as much as before.

His hand was clutched in Charlie's, and that was all he needed.


	71. Surprise

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 443**

 **Enjoy!**

James tugged him impatiently through the house, out into the yard. Sirius blinked the sleep out of his eyes, disgruntled at having been woken up at what felt like the crack of dawn.

"Come _on_ , Padfoot," James urged. "We're nearly there!"

Sirius frowned. "Nearly where?"

James only grinned. "You'll see."

Now, Sirius was rather used to being confused by the Potters' way of life—the Blacks lived very differently—but this was odd even for them. Still, he trusted James, so he followed him through the garden until they reached the small tool shed Fleamont kept brooms and gardening supplies in. To further Sirius' confusion, Euphemia and Fleamont were both standing in the grass, identical grins on their faces.

James released Sirius' wrist and turned to him excitedly. "Gone on," he urged. "Open the shed."

Sirius' first thought was that this was a prank, but Euphemia and Fleamont wouldn't help James prank him, surely. His second thought was that they were setting his new room up in the shed, but the Potters were too nice for that.

Well, he was a Gryffindor, so he squared his shoulders and opened the door.

His mouth fell open. Inside was a gleaming motorbike, black and sleek and utterly perfect. He reached out pale fingers to touch it, then dropped his hand back to his side. He looked over his shoulder to the Potters, who were watching him anxiously.

"What do you think?" Euphemia blurted out suddenly. Her hands were clasped tightly together. "James said you were always admiring those Muggle motorbikes in those magazines—we thought you might like one of your own."

"You got this for me?" Sirius felt dazed. His own family had never taken note of his interests before, much less encouraged them. But Euphemia and Fleamont hadn't just taken him in—they were gifting him things, too. It made him feel like a part of the family, which simultaneously terrified him and filled him with joy.

"Of course." It was Fleamont who spoke this time, his eyes wrinkling heavily around the corners as he smiled. "You're nearly seventeen, Sirius. I think you're responsible enough to take care of this."

James was grinning knowingly at him, arms out wide for a hug. Sirius hurriedly complied, throwing his arms around the family of three.

The family he was now a part of.

"Thank you," he whispered, overcome with emotion but too happy to be embarrassed by it. "Thank you so, so much."

"Of course, honey." Euphemia smoothed the dark hair from his face tenderly. "We love you."

And he knew, suddenly, that he was finally ready to say it back.

He held them tighter. "I love you, too."


	72. Worries

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 676**

 **Enjoy!**

"Of course I'm not kidding!" Ginny exclaimed with a laugh. Her brown eyes were sparkling with a kind of joy Harry had never seen before. "Harry, we're going to be parents. Isn't that exciting?"

Exciting was one word for it, Harry thought nervously. Still, he grinned at his wife. "It's amazing, Ginny," he said honestly. "It's—Merlin, I never thought it would actually happen."

And he hadn't. Never had he thought of himself as a father; he'd never even pictured it. He never really had a father to raise him growing up—Remus had come close, Arthur and Sirius even closer, but it just wasn't the same. Uncle Vernon, of course, had shown him what _not_ to do… but that didn't mean Harry was confident in his abilities to raise a child.

But a part of him was elated. A baby. A child, half him and half Ginny, was on its way into the world. There was something undeniably beautiful about that.

He decided he would analyze his fears on a later date. Tonight, he and Ginny would celebrate.

Maybe he was just overreacting.

* * *

"Ron, I don't know what to do!"

He was pacing back and forth in his friend's—brother's—home, running his hands through his messy black hair. It had been a month since he'd found out about the baby, and none of his fears had alleviated. He was just as terrified as before.

Ron watched his friend with wide eyes. "Mate, I dunno. You were great with Teddy—he's turned out fine, hasn't he? Is this that much different?"

Harry hesitated. A part of him wanted to say no, that he thought of Teddy as a son and nothing could change that. But the other part kept reminding him that he'd had Andromeda to help with the boy, and he didn't even have full custody of Teddy.

"Andromeda helped me with him," Harry answered slowly.

Ron's brow furrowed. "Ginny's going to help with the baby," he pointed out.

Harry shrugged helplessly. "It doesn't change the fact that this kid is… they're mine, Ron. I don't know if I can do this."

Ron's freckled face softened. "Mate," he said gently, "this is new, yeah, and bloody scary for anyone. But you've faced worse than this. That kid is lucky to have you as a dad."

"Maybe." Harry wasn't convinced.

* * *

That night, Ginny noticed his upset.

She turned the bedside lamp on. "Hey," she whispered, shaking his shoulder slightly. "Harry, what's the matter?"

Harry blinked his eyes open, squinting against his own near-sightedness. He reached for his glasses. "Huh?"

"What's the matter?" Ginny repeated. "You haven't been yourself lately. Quieter, more withdrawn."

Harry bit his lip and turned his head. "Ah. Nothing. A tough case, is all. It'll be over soon enough, I'm sure."

Ginny snorted, unimpressed. "Right. When, exactly, did I give you the impression that I would fall for your lies?"

Harry's face was burning. Could he really admit to this? It felt like a weakness. But then again, Ginny had never had any qualms about revealing her own nerves to him…

"I just… I dunno how to be a good dad," he admitted softly. "Gin, I don't know how to do this. What if our child hates me?" His heart clenched at the thought. "What if they don't feel safe with me, or comfortable?"

Warm hands encased his own, pulling him closer. "Harry," Ginny murmured, running her hands through his hair, "don't think that. Don't ever think that. You're a kind, loving, happy man whose heart is so, so big. You'll be devoted to our child, and there's no way they could feel anything but safe around you." She paused for a second before plowing on determinedly. "You are not the Dursleys, Harry. You love your child."

Harry nodded, but he didn't offer any other response. He didn't quite know what to say. He appreciated Ginny's words, but he was still so, so scared.

"We'll talk more in the morning," Ginny promised with a yawn. "For now, go to sleep."

Wrapped in his wife's arms, Harry did.


	73. Shallow

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 671**

 **WARNINGS: Strong language, prejudices (including implied sexism)**

 **Enjoy!**

Remus ran a hand over his face exhaustedly. There was stubble on his jaw, which he would normally have shaved by now, but after his transformation… he was just too tired to lift the razor. He made his way down the halls of Grimmauld Place because, unfortunately, the mornings after full moons met him with a terrible bout of insomnia—he needed some tea.

Joints popping painfully, he pushed open the door to the kitchen—and froze when he saw a figure already sitting at the table.

Tonks looked up when he entered, the cheery bubblegum-pink of her hair contrasting sharply with the tiredness in her eyes. "Wotcher, Remus." She sounded as exhausted as he felt. "What're you doing up?"

He was very aware, suddenly, that he was wearing only a thin t-shirt and flannel pajama pants—but Tonks didn't seem to notice. She was barefoot, chipped pink nail polish visible on her toes, and the shorts she had been sleeping in were a deep purple. Her oversized t-shirt advertised a band he hated, but he liked the get up anyway.

She always had a way of making him feel comfortable in his own skin.

He sat down beside her. "Full moon," he answered. "I can never sleep afterwards. You?"

Tonks sighed heavily and blew the hair out of her face. "I was passed up for a promotion again," she admitted, her fingers clenched tightly around her mug. "Some idiot man got the position."

Ah. That sort of promotion pass up, then. Remus frowned sharply. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said honestly. He hesitated for a moment before adding, "But you know, you're a brilliant Auror even without the title."

Tonks sent a small smile his way. "Thanks." She glanced up at him. "Did you come in here for something?"

Remus shrugged, then winced when he aggravated a fresh wound. "Just tea."

Tonks put a gentle on hand on his shoulder and stood up. "Coming right up."

His eyes widened. "You don't have to—"

"I want to," she interrupted firmly. "I even know how you like it."

Remus opened his mouth, then closed it. He knew it would only end in an argument, and he really didn't want to have one with her—not now. He settled back in his chair. "Thank you," he said softly.

Her smile reached her eyes this time, and it was all worth it.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Tonks spoke again. "You know, I really think that… we should go for it. My feelings haven't gone away, Remus."

His heart sped up as his stomach dropped. "Dora…"

"I just—I can handle it, Remus. I've met my fair share of prejudice; different from yours, obviously, but prejudice all the same."

"I know," Remus said quietly. "I know."

Tonks carried over his mug of tea, her silver eyes staring at him intently. "Then why won't you give us a try?" She grabbed his scarred hand with her own unblemished one, and no matter how Remus looked at it, the picture didn't look wrong. But the rest of the world thought it did.

"People can change," Tonks continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "The world can change. But we need to brave enough to initiate it."

Remus was quiet.

Tonks waited a beat. "If… if you don't want this, tell me and I'll stop. But I need… I need an answer, Remus. Do you want this?"

"Yes," he whispered. He closed his eyes. "Merlin, yes."

Tonks bit her lip. "Then take it."

When he looked at her, he saw the woman he loved. He saw his future. Remus felt the last of his walls crumbling away, and felt an overwhelming urge to be _strong_ for once.

Fingers shaking, he reached out and cupped her face with his hand. There would be outrage. There would be obstacles. But the world could fuck itself, he decided. His world was right in front of him, and he wouldn't run from it.

He pressed his lips to hers.


	74. Buttons

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 454**

 **Enjoy!**

Remus was just in the process of threading his needle when a hand entered his field of vision. He jumped, startled, and would have dropped both needle and thread if years on the battlefield hadn't taught him better reflexes.

"Merlin! Sorry, Remus; you normally hear me coming."

Remus' amber eyes flew up to Tonks' face as she stared at him, sheepish. He sent her a small smile. "I wasn't paying much attention. You're fine, really." He glanced down again and realized what she had tried to hand him. He plucked the button from her grasp. "Ah, thank you. I'd have missed this."

Instead of leaving like he thought she would, Tonks sat down in the chair across from his. "What are you doing?" she asked curiously. When she tilted her head to the side, her lemon-yellow hair flopped in front of her eyes, and he tried—he really did—to keep his heart from skipping a beat, but was unsuccessful.

He cleared his throat. He was a bit hesitant to answer, seeing as he wasn't proud of his financial situation, but he forced himself to at least be open about _this._

"The button came off my jacket," he explained in his quiet voice. "I'm sewing it back on."

"Why not use magic?"

Remus rubbed the back of his neck. " _Reparo_ only works so many times," he admitted. "Besides, my mother would have killed me if I only ever did things the wizard way. She was a Muggle, you know."

"Oh, I know." Tonks grinned at him. "Sirius has told me a few stories about her. She sounds like quite the character."

Remus chuckled softly. "She definitely was," he agreed. "She wasn't one to shy away from her problems… and believe me, there were many of them."

He remembered, suddenly, her tired, sad eyes when she looked upon him post-moon, the long hours she was forced to work throughout the weak, the frustration on her face when she couldn't afford him something…

A warm hand on his own ripped him from those memories.

"Hey." Tonk's hair had changed to a warm, sunset orange, which served to calm him. "From what Sirius said, she loved you a lot."

"Yes." He exhaled slowly. "Sorry, I—" What was he going to say? That he gets like that when the anniversary of her death grows near? That he sometimes has trouble removing himself from the guilt everyone said he shouldn't feel?

Tonks didn't press him to continue, though. "Teach me," she requested. "Merlin knows _reparo_ is going to fail me one day, what with my gracelessness. I can't go running to Mum every time a button pops off."

She squeezed his hand, and he couldn't help but squeeze back in thanks.


	75. I'm Not Leaving

**Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 550**

 **Enjoy!**

Remus looked absolutely dreadful when he opened the door to her, but really, Tonks had been expecting that. He'd been quite detailed when trying to warn her away from him, after all.

Amber eyes stared at her for a moment before dropping closed. "I probably should have seen this coming."

"Probably," she agreed, but her voice lacked its usual exuberance. "May I come in?"

He stepped aside slowly and with great difficulty. Tonks slipped in and closed the door for him before draping his arm around her shoulders. "Back to bed," she said softly. "I've got some basic supplies here, too."

Remus' voice was hoarse. "I asked you not to come."

"You shouldn't be alone after the full moon. And you didn't tell me not to come; you told me I wouldn't like what I saw if I came."

She was looking up at him defiantly, but her heart was bleeding for him. His face was much too pale, and there were large shadows beneath his eyes. His shoulders were hunched and he walked with a limp, his usually stoic face contorting in pain with every slight movement.

He might be angry with her, but she was glad she'd come.

He was too weak to protest much as she led him to his bedroom. She helped him lie down, her hands careful not to brush against any wounds. Tonks then placed a hand on his forehead, biting her lip when she felt how high his temperature was.

"Fever," she murmured.

Remus let out a bitter laugh. "I'm aware."

She smoothed his hair back, uncaring that the tawny and grey hairs were slick with sweat. "I'm going to get you some water, okay? Then you can take a pain potion, and I'll look at your wounds."

Her hand was on the doorknob when he spoke. "You don't have to do this, Dora."

She turned back to him, her purple hair falling in waves around her face. "You know I don't mind taking care of you."

His brow furrowed; he looked so frustrated, so angry with himself. "I know, but—but you shouldn't _have_ to."

Forgoing the water for the moment, Tonks went over and sat on the edge of his bed. She gently cupped Remus' hot, scarred cheek with her palm. "I entered this relationship knowing what I was getting into, Remus," she murmured. "I don't regret a moment of it. And you took care of me when I was ill. Let me do the same to you."

"This is different," he protested, though he leaned into her touch. "This… this is every month for the rest of my life, Dora."

"A life," Tonks said firmly, "that I intend to spend with you, if you'll have me."

Remus glanced away. "It's a lot to ask of you."

"Can I ask you something? And answer me honestly." He agreed. She stroked her thumb over one of the scars cutting through is face. "Do you want me here?"

He took a long time to respond, but when it came to him, Tonks had learned to be patient. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes."

She smiled tenderly and leaned over to kiss his brow. "Then here is exactly where I'll be," she promised.

Remus tilted his head up to kiss her fully, and she knew he understood.


	76. Mourning

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 427**

 **WARNINGS: Mourning, referenced canon character death**

 **Enjoy!**

Tonks squeezed her eyes shut tightly, silently cursing herself for this show of weakness. She became an Auror, she'd joined the Order, _knowing_ that people would die—but somehow she never thought death could touch Alastor Moody.

But it had. It had taken him so suddenly, so cruelly, and Tonks just hadn't been prepared.

The tears wouldn't stop coming.

A hand fell on her shoulder, and she jumped. She turned, her eyes landing on Remus—her husband. It still felt so strange—yet wonderful—to be able to call him that. His face was drawn and tight with pain; he, too, had known Alastor, even longer than Tonks had. She felt selfish, suddenly, for not checking in on him.

"Sorry." She wiped hastily at her cheeks. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't be crying about this."

Because she was an Auror. She was his wife. She was supposed to be strong, to lift him up when he was hurting, as he so obviously was now. She was supposed to mourn and be done, because she'd seen death before. She hadn't even cried this much when Sirius had died.

Remus didn't say anything. He just slid next to her on the Weasleys' love seat and pulled her against him. "It's okay, Dora," he whispered. His fingers were buried in her brown hair, comforting her, grounding her. "It's okay to mourn him."

As if her body had been waiting for someone to tell her she wasn't weak for it, she burst into tears. She clutched her husband tightly, her fingers digging into his back. He embraced her just as desperately, his own breathing erratic; his face remained dry.

"I can't believe he's gone," she choked out. "It just doesn't make sense."

Remus smoothed her hair back, hushing her softly. "It never does," he told her sadly. "It never does.

She pressed her face against his neck, ashamed but glad he was there all at once. "I should be strong for you," she whispered. "I'm trying, I promise."

Remus pulled back at that, and his expression was stern as he looked down at her. "Be strong only for yourself, Dora," he said. "If being strong for me will help you, do it. But you never have to push aside your feelings to protect mine." His amber eyes softened. "And he meant so much more to you than he did to me. This time, I'm here for _you_."

She shuddered and hiccuped, squeezing her eyes shut tight. She didn't know what to say—she wasn't even sure what she was feeling—but she clutched him tightly. "Thank you."


	77. Is This the Last Time?

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 587**

 **Enjoy!**

Amelia looked at them over her glasses, one brow raised nearly to her hairline. Remus felt, ridiculously, like he was thirteen again, being tutored by a seventh year Ravenclaw with fiery red hair and a personality to match. Her hair had darkened with age, of course, but he could still see that undiminishable spirit in her eyes.

"That's the thing about laws," she told him slowly, "they can be changed."

Remus glanced over at his wife, who was looking hopeful as she clutched their son to her chest. His stomach twisted in knots as he recalled the threat hanging over them. The war was over, but no matter how much of a hero you were, prejudices didn't vanish overnight.

He'd given so much to the wizarding world, but Umbridge's laws were still in place; he'd broken many of them while serving the Order. Azkaban loomed in his future.

Kingsley was trying his best to fix things, but… this wasn't up to the minister.

"You'll help us, then?" Dora's eyes—violet at the moment—were sparkling brightly. She had so much faith in the woman in front of them, and though Remus knew Amelia Bones had done some incredible things in her past, she couldn't change the mind of a nation.

He winced a little at his own hopelessness.

"I can't promise you anything," Amelia clarified, "but a fair trial. I know what Remus has done for us; I will make sure he's not thrown away and forgotten."

Remus ran a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, Amelia, but I'm not certain your influence will keep them from locking me away."

"Maybe not," she said softly. "But it might earn you a repeal. And it might plant the seed of change."

Remus' amber eyes locked onto Teddy's sleeping form. The baby's hair was changing very slowly as he slept, mostly switching from greens to blues to purples. Remus reached a hand out and placed his scarred hand on the boy's unblemished head.

"Amelia." His voice was hoarse. "I can't miss him growing up. Not… not a second of it."

Amelia's eyes flickered to the sleeping baby. "Lupin, I can't promise you anything that I wouldn't be able to promise anyone else."

Remus closed his eyes, unable to speak. So Tonks did. "Do you think they'll really imprison him?"

Amelia shrugged slightly. "By all accounts, Mrs. Lupin, your husband broke the law," she pointed out. "The Wizengamot will really be focusing on whether those laws were just. _That_ is the true test."

* * *

"It will be fine," Tonks said bracingly. "You're a hero, Remus. They can't lock you away."

"I think their views run a bit deeper than that, Dora," he said softly. "I think… it's a very real possibility that I won't win the trial."

Dora curled up against him, holding him as though if she held on tight enough, he couldn't slip away. "I won't let them put you there, Remus." Anger colored her voice. "I won't."

"If my sentence is Azkaban," Remus said streadily, "you have to promise me that you will accept it."

"I will _not_ —"

"For Teddy," he croaked. "He needs his mother."

"He needs his father, too."

"Dora. If they take me, stay for him."

Tonks closed her eyes. "Kingsley is fighting for us. Amelia is fighting for us. The Order is fighting for us. It's going to be okay."

He didn't quite believe it. He just held his wife tightly, very much aware that it might be the last time he got to do so.


	78. Never Change

**A/N: Hey y'all! Now, I know I've been doing a lot of RemusTonks lately (can you really blame me? :P), but I promise I'll be spicing it up soon. XD**

 **Word Count: 433**

 **Enjoy!**

Tonks tsked lightly as she caught her three-year-old son's hand. "Not so fast," she said with a grin as she crouched down. She had to keep on hand on the floor to keep from losing her balance; the little bundle she was carrying inside her didn't make her any more coordinated than she usually was.

Teddy pouted at her as she did up his coat. He bounced anxiously and glanced out the window. "But Mummy, the _snow_."

Tonks rolled her eyes. "Merlin, you're just like your father. The two of you always think about your health last." She kissed Teddy's forehead. "The snow will still be there when you've finished dressing, I promise."

Teddy grinned up at her, deeming her forgiven. His amber eyes—just like his father's—were glowing mischievously, though. Tonks had a feeling that she'd be cursing Remus for recounting snowy day stories with his friends before the day was done. "Where's Daddy, Mummy?"

"Outside, shovelling the snow," she answered with a grunt as she pushed herself back up. Tonks ran her fingers through her pink hair as she checked out the window to see if her husband was actually being a responsible human being, for once.

He was not.

She rolled her eyes and shrugged on her cloak before grabbing Remus' coat. She extended her hand to her son and he took it eagerly, his chubby fingers wrapping around her slender ones in a firm grip. She opened the door and led them outside.

As soon as Tonks had helped Teddy down the icy steps he shot off towards his father, looking adorable in the heavy coat she'd forced him in. She smiled brightly as Remus glanced down at his son, feigning surprise. Her husband set the shovel down, then picked Teddy up.

Tonks reached them just as they were trying to catch snowflakes on their tongues. She held the coat out to Remus. "You set a terrible example, you know."

Remus set Teddy down, looking up at her through tawny, grey-streaked pieces of hair. "I only planned to be out here for a second—"

"Not a good excuse," she interrupted. She thrust the coat towards him again as Teddy scampered off. "Try again next time. Now, put it on."

Remus did so with a laugh. "I'm sorry?" he tried, looking incredibly irresistible with his flushed cheeks and warm amber eyes.

Tonks bit her lip and laughed. "You never change, do you?" she asked fondly.

Remus dropped a cold kiss to her lips. "Afraid not," he said with a grin. "But you love me anyway."

Tonks smiled softly. "Yeah. I do."


	79. To Us

**A/N: Hey y'all! I did my best with the accents here... hope they're okay. Also, Cedric is alive BECAUSE I CAN.**

 **Word Count: 518**

 **WARNINGS: Tiny bit of language**

 **Enjoy!**

Cedric walked to the table Fleur and Viktor were sitting at, firewhiskey in hand and heart heavy. He hadn't slept well the previous night, a fact made obvious by the dark shadows under his eyes. Still, he shot his friends a smile when he reached them.

Fleur accepted a bottle with a raised eyebrow. "You don't normally drink," she said, eyeing the bottle in his hand.

Cedric handed the last one to Viktor. "No," he agreed. "But I thought that, since you two were… a couple glasses couldn't hurt."

Fleur smirked and poured herself a glass. "A week ago you'd 'ave said it was too early to drink."

Viktor spoke up then. "Vith this kind of nonsense going on all around us? It's never too early to drink."

Fleur raised her glass to him. " _Je suis d'accord._ "

Cedric pulled out a chair with a loud scrape, and sat down. He ran his fingers through his hair tiredly. The war; Viktor meant the war. Or rather, the war that was steadily brewing while the majority of the wizarding world ignored the looming threat.

Cedric poured himself a measure and drank deeply. The whiskey burned on its way down, but it wasn't an unwelcome sensation. "It certainly is a mess."

Viktor cast him a pitying look. "It vill get better," he said slowly, "if ve are villing to fight for it."

"Right," Cedric said. It was a frail hope, perhaps, but he clung to it. "You're right. Things can't stay bad forever. That's not—that's not how the world works."

Viktor raised a thick eyebrow. He turned to Fleur, who'd gone suddenly silent, her silvery blonde hair shielding her face from view. "And you? You have been quiet."

Fleur looked up at them, her face solemn. "'Ow far are you willing to go," she asked softly, "to aid ze fight?"

Cedric blinked. "How far? What do you mean?"

Fleur closed her blue eyes. In a very, very hushed voice, she said to them, "Zere is a… an organization. Dedicated to fighting." She opened her eyes, looking at them both piercingly. "I 'ave joined. Bill 'as joined. It is dangerous, but… I think it will be worth it, in ze end."

Cedric and Viktor shared a look. Cedric's father had mentioned such an organization before when he spoke about the war—the Order of the Phoenix, he'd called it. There was little doubt in his mind that Fleur was talking about the very same thing.

He drained his glass. "I… I'll have to think about it." He looked up, his brown eyes locking onto her blue ones. "But I will support you and your own, no matter what."

She smiled slightly at the promise, and Viktor echoed his words, seemingly relieved that Cedric had spoken the words first.

"Enough of this gloom," the Bulgarian Quidditch player said suddenly. "This vas supposed to be a drink between friends, political atmosphere be damned."

Fleur snorted, and Cedric let loose a small grin. Viktor was right; today was about them. He lifted his glass in a toast.

"To us, then."

The others followed suit. "To us!"


	80. With Hands Extended

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for THC and Hogwarts. Prompts are below! :)**

 **Magical Law and Government Task 5: Write about coming to someone's aid**

 **THC:**

 **House: Slytherin**

 **Class: Care of Magical Creatures**

 **Category: Drabble**

 **Prompt: failing a test**

 **Word Count: 999**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Thanks to Anna for beta-ing!**

 **Enjoy!**

When James exited the Quidditch Pitch after practice, he was expecting Peter to be watching with that familiar look of adoration—the last thing he'd thought he'd see was his normally well put-together friend almost in tears.

James' hazel eyes widened at the sight, and he quickly dropped his broom and climbed up the stands. He sat in front of Peter, concern written all over his features.

"Mate?" he said urgently. "What's the matter?"

Peter looked up, his blue eyes widening as he realized practice was over. A piece of parchment was immediately scrunched up in his hand and then removed from James' view. "Nothing. Er, homework." Then a bright smile spread over his face, so convincing that James nearly fell over from surprise. "Come on, we should be getting back to the castle. Free period is almost over."

Peter got up and hurried away, obviously assuming James would drop the issue and follow. James frowned sharply, but he decided not to push Peter's boundaries. He ran to grab his broom, then went to join Peter.

The two thirteen-year-olds hurried to the Great Hall, where Remus and Sirius were waiting for them.

"There you are!" Remus grinned at them. "Did practice run long?"

"It did," Peter answered before James, no traces of his earlier sadness present on his features. He patted his stomach. "I'm starving, too."

Sirius pushed a plate of food, already piled high, towards their friend. "Better eat, then." Sirius took a bite of his sandwich as Peter tucked in. Silver eyes focused on James. "All right, mate?"

James cleared his throat. "Er, yeah. Yeah, just thinking about practice."

Sirius and the others accepted the excuse, and after a quick lunch the four made their way to the Transfiguration classroom.

Which was when things started to get strange again.

Peter's face was missing its usual radiance. His hands were clenched around the strap of his bag so tightly that his knuckles were turning white, and his eyes were wide with what James could only identify as terror.

James thought he might explode; he wanted so badly to ask what was wrong. Before he could, though, Remus caught Peter's eye, shot him a small smile, and discreetly handed him a piece of chocolate. Peter accepted it with a more genuine smile, and James decided to back off once more. Remus and Peter were as close as James and Sirius were, after all; Remus would know how to handle this best.

They settled in their seats just before Professor McGonagall began the lesson; it wasn't long after that that Peter was biting his lip.

"Peter," James whispered. "Talk to me." Remus was sitting up front; he couldn't help. As far as James was concerned, it was his job to fix this in the other boy's absence.

"It's nothing, I just—" He stopped and laughed bitterly. "I'm so confused, my brain is melting."

Any other day, James would have written those words off as a joke. But now… he wondered what, exactly, that piece of parchment had been. Since he'd never been one to beat around the bush, he asked.

Peter's face flushed, and he glanced away, avoiding James gaze. He reached into his bag and pulled the crumpled parchment from his bag. James took it and smoothed it out. He recognized it as the exam they'd taken in that class the previous week.

One look at the score told James all he needed to know.

"They're always like that," Peter admitted quietly. His eyes were trained on the desk.

James glanced again at the ugly D scrawled across the top. He placed a hand on Peter's shoulder. "We need to fix this," he said, determination coloring his voice. "Now. I'll help you after class, okay? In the library."

Peter bit his lip, but agreed.

* * *

"This isn't helping."

James and Peter had been at it for hours, but the concepts just weren't _sticking_.

"You'll get it," James said bracingly as Peter pulled at his hair in frustration. "It's really easy, once you get the hang of it—"

"No, it's not!" Peter's hands slammed down on the table, making James jump in his seat. "You and Sirius always think that, but everything comes so easily to you—it doesn't to me!" The tears were back in Peter's eyes, and James felt a rush of shame for ignoring his friend's obvious misery. Some things couldn't be laughed away, after all.

Peter closed his eyes. "This is hard. I'm not _smart_ like the rest of you." He sounded so resigned to the fact. After a moment, he opened his eyes, regret flashing across his face. "Oh Merlin, that was really violent."

James blinked. "It's okay to be angry," he said cautiously. He rubbed the back of his neck. When Peter didn't respond, he continued. "You're right, you know. Not about you being unintelligent," he hastily clarified, "but that school comes easily to me, and I'm not always…" James trailed off, not sure what he was trying to say, exactly. Or rather, he knew what he was trying to say; he just couldn't find the words to explain it.

Peter's lips twitched. "Not always gracious about it?"

"Yeah," James agreed, relieved that he'd been understood. "And I'm sorry about that, Peter."

Peter sighed heavily. "I'm not mad at you, James. It's fine."

James frowned. "You're not stupid."

"You saw my score," Peter said in a strangled voice.

James shrugged. "So you're slower to pick up the concepts than some others. Marks don't really matter, Peter. What's important is the kind of person you are, and you're a brilliant one." He grinned, but then his gaze turned thoughtful. "At least, that's what my mum always says."

That elicited a laugh from the other boy. They let themselves savor the moment for a second before James turned back to the books spread before them.

"We can do it," he assured Peter softly. "Don't you worry, mate."

Peter sent him a tired, grateful smile and nodded. "Let's do it."

 **A/N:**

 **WC: Assorted Appreciation: Alex — (trait) athletic, (character) James Potter, (motion) misunderstood**

 **WC: Disney Challenge: Characters 2. Wendy — write about an oldest sibling**

 **WC: Trope of the Month: 11. (dialogue) "We need to fix this. Now."**

 **WC: All Sorts of Space: 15. (trait) hot-headed**

 **WC: Showtime: 13. One of Us — (action) crying**

 **WC: Liza's Loves: 20. (word) radiance**

 **WC: Scamander's Case: 1. Terror**

 **WC: Film Festival: 12. (word) explode**

 **WC: Marvel Appreciation: 13. "Oh my god, that was really violent."**

 **Seasonal: Days of the Year: July 7 — write about gifting someone chocolate**

 **Seasonal: Summer: 24. (dialogue) "I'm so confused, my brain is melting."**

 **Seasonal: Gryffindor: Other 3. (class) Transfiguration**

 **65\. Grateful**

 **227\. "This isn't helping."**


	81. Looking Up

**A/N: Hey y'all! This is a Muggle/Coffee Shop!AU. RemusTonks**

 **Word Count: 530**

 **Enjoy!**

If she wasn't so addicted to the drink, Tonks would lay off coffee forever. After making so much of the stuff for ungrateful customers, she had developed an odd love-hate relationship with the caffeinated beverage.

Still, she plastered a smile on her face when she handed the old woman in front of her the order. "There you go. Have a nice day!"

The woman took one look at Tonks' pink hair, multiple piercings, and the cluster of stars tattoo on her left wrist and wrinkled her nose. She then sniffed, took the drink, and left without another word.

Needless to say, it was turning out to be another great morning.

The bell above the door rang moments later, and Tonks turned with a grin to her next customers: a group of men in their thirties, chatting loudly as three of them went to grab a table. Tonks' grey eyes fell on the man approaching the counter. Large hands, amber eyes, and a shy smile—oh yes, her day had just gotten better.

"Hullo," the man greeted softly when he reached her.

"Wotcher," Tonks said chirpily. She grinned broadly at him, enjoying the way the skin around his eyes crinkled slightly when he smiled back. "What can I get you today?"

He listed off his order along with his friends', and Tonks put it in quickly. She grabbed a few cups and glanced up at him, a marker in hand. "Name?"

"Remus," he answered.

He headed to the table with his friends after a few more questions, and Tonks waited impatiently for Charlie to finish making the drinks. Her coworker seemed amused by this; he kept shooting her grins and winks, to which she rolled her eyes—like the mature adult she was.

She went to call out the order. "Remus!"

He looked up from where he was chatting with the other blokes—two with black hair, one with blond, and all three had the same mischievous glint in their eyes—and stood up quickly. Tonks handed him the drink carrier as soon as he was close enough, but caught his arm before he could move away.

To hell with it. She wasn't going to let this one get away.

"You're single?" she checked.

Remus blinked those amber eyes at her, but for once it wasn't because of Tonks' hair or clothes. "Er, yes."

"Brilliant." She took the sharpie cap in her teeth and ripped it off, then quickly scrawled her number across Remus' forearm. Out of the corner of her eye she could see his friends laughing and cheering him on. She paid them no mind.

"There." She finished and beamed up at him. "It's permanent marker, so if you don't call tonight I'll know why."

His face was a shade of red she'd never seen before, and her stomach did somersaults. "Oh. Oh, yes. Right."

"You'll call?"

That shy smile was slightly bolder now, and Tonks just knew that there was much about Remus she had yet to discover. The thought thrilled her.

"I will," he promised.

Still holding onto his wrist, she lifted his hand to her lips and kissed his palm. She grinned cheekily at him. "I'm looking forward to it."


	82. I Don't Mind

**A/N: Hey y'all! Some JohnAmelia... because why not? :P**

 **Word Count: 494**

 **Enjoy!**

"You're working too hard."

Amelia looked up when she heard the voice, startled; she'd been absorbed in her work. Her brown eyes landed on John, who was looking smart in his Auror robes.

She rolled her eyes at him.

"I'm being efficient; there's a difference."

John let out a long-suffering sigh and pulled out the chair opposite her desk. He reached out and took her hand, uncaring that the ink from the quill was dripping onto his wrist. He ran his thumb over the back of her hand and looked at her fondly.

"You're always efficient, Amelia. But these last few days have been so busy for you. It's okay to take a break."

Amelia appreciated his concern, but she felt strongly that it was misplaced. "John," she began, calling upon her legendary patience, "thank you for checking in on me, but it isn't necessary. I know my limits."

John was silent for a long time. "We've been friends for many years, Amelia," he said at last.

Amelia glanced at him over her glasses. "Yes." Her quill stopped scratching against the parchment. "Since school. Your point?"

John's smile was almost sad, which threw Amelia slightly. She hadn't thought this conversation had gone any differently than the others they'd had in the past few days. "I thought you might understand why I'm so worried about you."

"Because you care for me," Amelia answered slowly.

John's blue eyes were piercing. "How do I care about you, Amelia?" he asked softly.

How? She didn't know how. She knew that he liked to bring her lunch when he could. She knew he always stopped by when her work hours were over because she had a tendency to lose track of time. She knew how tense their relationship had been since the news of Voldemort's rising had spread, and how determined they both were to be okay anyway—

Ah.

Well. She really had thought it was obvious how she felt about the man.

She raised a red brow—closer to brown now, due to age—and spoke. "Do you want to hear me say it, John? Is that it? I really thought I'd made things clear between us."

He looked surprised. John cleared his throat. "Well. You didn't."

"I see that now," she said, an apologetic note in her tone. She didn't understand how he could have missed it—she didn't treat anyone the way she treated him—but she'd tell him if he needed it.

Amelia set down her quill. "I love you, John."

His grin was blinding. Mostly to distract herself from the butterflies in her stomach, Amelia looked away and reached once again to pick up her quill. "Don't get a big head about it. And there are two more hours until I need to be home, so you'd best stop dis—"

She was cut off by a pair of lips, and though it was hardly an appropriate thing to do in the workplace, she found she didn't mind it.


	83. Translations

**A/N: Hey y'all! Some more RemusTonks. Used google translate, so I'm sorry if the translations are wrong.**

 **Word Count: 492**

 **Enjoy!**

"I can't believe," Tonks complained as Remus ran a brush through her hair, "that you never told me you were Welsh."

Remus paused, the steady strokes that had been relieving Tonks of her headache coming to an abrupt end. "I didn't realize that information was so important."

His voice was dripping with amusement, and though Tonks knew he couldn't see her, she pouted. "I just think it's cool, is all. I've only ever lived in London."

She bumped her head against his palm, and, taking the hint, he resumed with the brush. He chuckled softly. "Wales is very different from London," he murmured thoughtfully. "At least, the part I grew up in. It's peaceful. I like to go back whenever I can."

Tonks frowned sharply. "Why are you living here, then? You could Apparate to the Order meetings."

"Mmm. I like being close to Harry and Sirius; it makes things easier. And it's easier picking up the odd job in London than it is where I grew up."

Tonks nodded slowly. "Your dad is there, isn't he?"

Remus exhaled slowly. "Yes."

He'd admitted to her before that, in the First War, their relationship had become strained when he revealed his part in the Order. His father had protested, claiming that it was much too dangerous for someone who was already a target. Remus, of course, hadn't listened.

A decade later, and Remus had decided it was easier to pull away than get into another fight about his role in the war effort. Tonks thought he should at least try to mend bridges with Lyall, but she knew how exhausting overprotective parents could be.

But Wales couldn't be tainted with that knowledge.

"Will you teach me?"

Remus' hands stilled. "Teach you what?"

"Welsh."

He laughed, and she could picture his amber eyes crinkling in their amusement. "Why do you want to learn?"

"It's a part of you!" she exclaimed loudly, waving her hands around for emphasis. "I don't need to be fluent; I just want to know a few words."

Remus quietly pulled her from the floor to the spot on the loveseat beside him. "What do you want to say?"

Tonks bit her lip. "Hello."

Remus snorted. " _Helo."_

Tonks grinned a little. " _Helo._ Now do 'my name is'."

" _Fy enw i yw."_

Tonks' eyes widened. "Erm. Say that again?"

Remus laughed and repeated it, and Tonks parroted it back until she got it right. She ran her hands through her hair, then reached out to lace her fingers behind Remus' neck. She drew him closer until their foreheads were touching. "Say 'I love you.'"

Remus' face was sincere as he uttered the words in that deep, soothing voice of his. " _Rwy'n dy garu di._ "

Tonks practiced it a few times. "Remus," she began softly after a few minutes of silence.

"Yes?"

" _Rwy'n dy garu di._ "

He let his lips brush over hers. " _Dwi'n dy garu di, hefyd._ "

Tonks didn't need a translation.


	84. Worthy

**A/N: Hey y'all! Have some Drarry :)**

 **Word Count: 324**

 **Enjoy!**

Harry's lips quirked upward when he heard his lover walk through the door.

"Back from your meeting so soon?" he asked Draco, allowing the other man to peck his cheek.

Draco rolled his eyes fondly. "It's hard work managing a Quidditch team, you know. But yes—surprisingly, everyone arrived on time."

Harry looked up from where he was sautéing the squash (Draco's favorite) and grinned. "I wasn't taking the piss, honest. I know how hard you work."

Draco moved back towards the door to hang up his cloak. "It doesn't compete with being Head Auror, I know."

Harry turned down the heat and allowed the squash to sizzle for a minute. He made his way over to the blond-haired man and wrapped his arms around him. "You know that I love and appreciate you no matter how long your meetings take." He kissed Draco's neck. "Not everything is a criticism," he reminded him gently.

He knew his lover felt a little unimportant at times; a side effect, Harry was sure, of losing his family's reputation and influence, as well as a good portion of his wealth. That was to say, neither man had to work—it was just easier to keep busy.

But Draco felt that he couldn't compare, that he wasn't pulling his weight. It was Harry's job to convince him otherwise.

Draco's shoulders relaxed. "I know," he said softly. Then he cleared his throat. "What are you making? It smells delicious."

Harry pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "Your favorite. The chicken's nearly ready; you can go ahead and fill your plate with squash, since I know that's what you'll go after. Make sure you turn off the stove first."

Draco grinned at him and leaned in for a kiss. Harry obliged happily.

"I love you," Draco murmured as he pulled away.

Harry practically glowed. It wasn't often that Draco initiated proclamations of love.

"I love you, too. Now—let's eat!"


	85. A Part of Me

**A/N: Hey y'all! Some RemusTonks. Again. :P**

 **Word Count: 400**

 **Enjoy!**

Remus watched Tonks scribbling furiously in the notebook, her currently hazel eyes narrowed and her tongue between her teeth. After a few minutes, he decided it was only fair to announce his presence.

"Hello, Nymphadora."

She jumped, her quill streaking across the page. Remus winced in sympathy when she cursed.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he apologized.

Tonks waved his concern aside, then brushed midnight-blue bangs out of her face before turning to him with a grin. "Don't worry about it," she said. Then she fixed him with a stern glare. "And don't call me Nymphadora."

Remus shrugged and pulled out the chair next to her before settling down. "We'll see," he teased. "I make no promises."

Tonks rolled her eyes. "Charming," she deadpanned. She waved her wand and the messy line of ink disappeared. She snapped the book shut. "What can I do for you?"

Remus shrugged. "I was just wondering what you were up to." He looked pointedly at the notebook.

She followed his gaze and laughed. "I was logging my deepest secrets and desires, of course. Which includes writing 'Mrs. Remus Lupin' in hearts."

Remus cocked an eyebrow. "It's a little early for marriage, don't you think?"

Tonks pressed a hand to her chest. "Why, Remus, are you saying you don't want to make an honest woman out of me?"

He laughed then, deeply. Having her here was like gaining that little piece of himself that had died along with Lily and James back…

Tonks ran her fingers through her hair. "Really, though, I'm just jotting down some things on my to-do list. I forget otherwise."

As proof, she slid the notebook over to him. With a glance to make sure he had her permission, he opened it to a random page.

 _Get milk. Tell Sirius he's a git. Turn in Mad-Eye's bloody paperwork. Enlist the twins in a prank war against R and S._

 _Tell Remus I love him and snog him senseless._

Remus' heart thudded in his chest. He cleared his throat. "You haven't done this one yet." He licked his lips and pretended to squint at the page. "Something about telling me you love me and—what was it?—ah, yes. And snogging me senseless."

Tonks rolled her eyes, but a flush spread across her features.

"We'd best remedy that, then."

Remus was only too happy to agree. "You, Nymphadora, are absolutely right."


	86. Cake: Cure For All Ails

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. Some Percy &Charlie brotherly love :)**

 **Word Count: 726**

 **Enjoy!**

Charlie bit his lip, hard. Times were tough, and he knew Percy was aware of the fact, but that didn't make today any easier. Dad was at work, and Mum had to take a couple part-time jobs to make ends meet—she couldn't get the day off. Bill was occupied with managing the twins, Ron, and Ginny, which would normally be fine.

But it was Percy's birthday today, so it wasn't fine.

Charlie was only thirteen, but he knew ten-year-old Percy was much more mature than other kids his age. He knew that Percy understood that the only presents this year would be a couple hand-made jumpers several days late, and that the younger boy was okay with that.

But no one was around to make him a cake, and Charlie thought his brother deserved that, at least. The problem was, none of the Weasley boys could bake to save their lives.

Charlie sat on the sofa, glancing at the birthday boy every few moments. Percy was in the corner reading, like usual; Charlie wanted the kid front and center today, though.

"Bill," he called out, "Percy's reading that book fast isn't he?"

Bill looked over from where he was trying to get Ron and Ginny to play together nicely. "Huh?"

Charlie tried to make his eyes convey his desperation to make this Percy's special day. "He's a good reader, isn't he?"

Percy was watching through those lopsided glasses, looking so much like Dad. He seemed unsure how to handle the almost-praise—and not knowing something always made the boy agitated.

Bill blinked, entirely unhelpfully. "Er, yeah. He is."

Well, that hadn't worked at all. Charlie sighed heavily and stomped over to the kitchen, shooting a bewildered Bill an irritated look. He'd just force his cooking on everyone, then; it would be a conversation starter if everything went wrong, at least.

He took out Mum's cookbook, flipped through the pages until he found a cake recipe that looked relatively easy, then set to work. When he realized he couldn't use magic, well… things got interesting.

He discovered quickly that he was a slow baker. He was thorough, though; every ingredient was measured out carefully, and he read every direction twice. He made quite a mess, but it would be worth the cleanup if he could just get this to his brother on time.

The day was ending, though. When Charlie finally deemed the (slightly lopsided) cake safe to eat, Ron and Ginny had already been put to bed. Bill smiled gently at him as he led the twins through the kitchen towards the bathroom.

"He's in the sitting room," he told Charlie.

Charlie just nodded in response. He cut a couple slices of cake—chocolate, without frosting—and made sure to hand the bigger piece to Percy when he reached his brother.

"Special delivery," he chirped. He handed Percy a plate. "It may be a little hot, so… be careful of that."

Percy blinked owlishly down at the cake. "You made this?" he asked.

Charlie ran a hand through his red hair. "Yeah."

"Why?"

Charlie was surprised. "It's your birthday!"

Percy shifted uncomfortably. "You haven't made anyone else cake before, though."

Charlie took a bite of his own cake and winced. "Well, that's because I'm not that great at it."

That startled a laugh out of Percy, and to Charlie's delight, he took a bite himself. "I think it's good."

Charlie snorted and sat beside his brother, despite the fact that they were not supposed to eat in the sitting room. "You know what I like about you?" he asked softly. "You'd have let the day pass without doing anything special because you knew how busy everyone was, without complaint. Not a lot of people would do that, let me tell you."

Charlie ruffled his brother's hair as Percy's ears glowed red. "Blush all you want," he teased, "I think you're brilliant. Happy birthday." He paused. "Er, Perce? You don't have to eat all the cake. I've burnt it."

Percy frowned. "I like it," he insisted.

Charlie shook his head fondly at the younger boy's stubbornness and pulled his brother to his side in a one-armed hug. They sat like that in silence for a few minutes as Percy ate.

"Charlie?"

"Hmmm?"

Percy's freckled face turned up to look at him. "Thank you."

Charlie squeezed his brother's shoulder in response.


	87. Room to Grow

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts :)**

 **Word Count: 669**

 **Enjoy!**

Andromeda gently smoothed her daughter's hair back, her tired blue eyes fond as she gazed down at the sleeping baby. Nymphadora's hair was a bubblegum-pink at the moment, though she tended to wear the same shade of brown as Ted's hair; Andromeda suspected that was her natural color.

Still, no matter how many times Nymphadora's features shifted, Andromeda was always able to recognize her daughter.

She hummed softly as she rocked Nymphadora. As content as she was, Andromeda was no fool; she knew that a war was brewing, and she would be a target when the Dark Lord rose to power, as he was attempting to do. She'd left the most prestigious pureblooded family in Britain—of course she was in danger. And with the threat to her life came the threats to Ted's and Nymphadora's.

Well, Andromeda would move heaven and earth to ensure her daughter's safety. No one would harm the Tonks family—not as long as Andromeda breathed.

She ran her knuckle down Nymphadora's soft cheek, and when she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Don't worry, my darling. I'll always protect you. You'll always be safe here."

Back then, it hadn't occurred to Andromeda that she wouldn't be able to protect her daughter not because she was unable to, but because Nymphadora didn't want her protection.

Nymphadora was seventeen now—spunky, independent, and a capable witch—and wanted to enroll in the Auror program.

But Andromeda, memories of the war and all she had lost because of it fresh in her mind, was vehemently against her daughter's career choices.

"Nymphadora," she began carefully, "wouldn't you like to do something a little less stressful? It's a hard job, and there will be so many challenging days—"

"Mum, _don't_ call me Nymphadora," her daughter snapped. "And I told you, it's a job that does a lot of good—and I want to help and protect people. It will be worth it. Besides, I'm always up for a challenge."

Her eyes—a violet color, currently—were twinkling. Andromeda, though, was far from at ease. She didn't want her daughter to be in such dangerous circumstances. She couldn't imagine the terror of coming home to realize her baby wouldn't be back—

"Andromeda." Ted's voice was quiet and soft beside her. "She needs space to be her own person." Then, even more quietly so only Andromeda could hear, he said, "It's okay to let her go."

Andromeda didn't want to let her baby go. She wanted to flock to her daughter, grip her tightly and never release her into the cruel, dark world that would judge her for the family her mother had escaped from, the world that would scorn her for carrying Muggle blood in her veins.

But she didn't want Nymphadora to grow estranged from her. Andromeda recalled the strained relationship she'd had with her own mother and knew that the freedom to pursue one's own life was the greatest gift a parent could give their child.

If space—if freedom—was what Nymphadora needed, she would give it. Because she always wanted her daughter to feel safe in their home, to know she wanted and cherished.

Andromeda was so, so tired of worrying, but this was only the beginning. "Be careful," she begged. "You never know what's going to happen."

Nymphadora's eyes lit up, and Andromeda knew the words had been the right ones. "I will, Mum! I promise." She embraced her mother tightly, and Andromeda responded with enthusiasm.

"Don't let anyone stand in your way, Nymphadora," she whispered in her daughter's ear. "You are your father are so alike—don't rise to anyone's bait, just like he doesn't rise to anyone's."

Nymphadora laughed softly, and Andromeda's heart swelled. "That's what he taught me," she said, "though I'm not sure how successful I'll be in the execution. Some people are pricks, you know."

Andromeda sighed through her nose. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll visit home," her daughter promised. "Don't worry about that."

And as long as this was still home, Andromeda couldn't really complain.


	88. The Spare

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 417**

 **Enjoy!**

He was used to being the one left behind.

He wasn't the heir. He was the spare son. So it wasn't necessary that he was trained in the ways of the family; it wasn't necessary that he was included in the family gatherings; he was only the back up in case things went horribly wrong.

But right here, right now… he was the one in charge. He was here, in front of his lord, and his brother was nowhere to be seen. The Dark Lord was watching him carefully, looking pleased by his report. He glowed with pride. He'd done that. He'd been successful, all on his own.

It was just him and the Dark Lord. Nobody else.

He was enough here. He had a place here, a meaning. There was belonging.

He felt a stirring in his blood. Desire, pleasure—he wanted to feel this way again. He wanted to be the victor.

He knew he'd do anything to cement his place in these ranks.

o.O.o

When his brother joined the forces a few weeks later, raging jealousy flooded him. He feared all his careful work would come undone. He'd heard it all his life, after all—his brother was more charming, more handsome, more suited to the finer things in life. His brother was an expert manipulator, and he struck fear in his foes.

His brother was an excellent diplomat—and cheat. But that was fine, because he was best suited for the battlefield.

And that was exactly what the world would soon become.

o.O.o

Rabastan lifted a dark brow as he surveyed his brother across the table. Rodolphus was raising his wine glass, a dangerous grin on his face. He was notorious for that grin; it made knees weak and wills tremble.

Rabastan, though, was so much more dangerous than a smile. So much more lethal.

Alone at the end of the table, he took a bite out of an apple, letting the juice run down his chin. His steel eyes never left Rodolphus.

Rodolphus never turned his way.

Rabastan's nails cut crescent shapes into the skin of the red fruit. He ground his teeth.

But his lips curled upward when he felt the familiar burning sensation on his left forearm.

Rodolphus looked over as he stood, his expression unreadable. Rabastan grinned, made a mockery of apologetic.

"My services are required," he murmured.

Rodolphus nodded curtly, and Rabastan took his leave.

Ah, yes. In this court, it was Rodolphus who was the spare.


	89. This is Love

**A/N: Hey y'all! This takes place after the war. Have some AudreyPercyOliver :3**

 **Word Count: 550**

 **Enjoy!**

Oliver winced in sympathy as his lover's face turned a shade of red previously unknown to mankind. There was a part of him, though, that was snickering; Audrey noticed, and she rammed him in the ribs with her elbow.

The shouts of Molly Weasley echoed loudly throughout their bedroom, and Oliver wondered if this was the first time anyone had received a Howler for failing to bring their two lovers home.

Probably.

Then the Howler burst into flames, the three occupants of the bed leaning away from the fire, and shredded itself into flaming strips of paper before crumbling into ash. When the final shouts had died away, Molly having chosen to end her rant with an invitation to dinner, Percy looked at them both sheepishly.

"Well," Audrey huffed, feigning offense, "I guess you were too embarrassed by us to tell your family—"

"Oh, lay off," Percy begged tiredly. He took off his glasses and ran a hand over his face. "They get unbearable when I have _one_ lover; I couldn't imagine how they'd react to two."

Oliver's lips twitched. "Poor Molly. She only wanted more mouths to feed."

Percy groaned. "You really want to go to that? They'll be… nosy."

Audrey threw her head back and laughed, her blonde hair falling across her shoulders in a way that left both Percy and Oliver slightly breathless. "Percy, they just care about you! They want to make sure you're being taken care of."

Audrey climbed to Percy's side of the bed and buried her fingers in his red curls. She leaned her forehead against Percy's, her green eyes boring into his blue ones. "I would love to meet your family," she murmured before kissing him chastely. "So would Oliver. Right, love?"

Oliver joined his two favorite people, capturing them in a crushing hug. "Right," he said happily. He released them only to grab his wand and banish the remnants of the Howler. Then Oliver straightened up and ran his hands through his dark hair, his brown eyes full of desire.

"There's some time before we have to go to dinner, isn't there?"

Percy held up a hand. "Oh no. Not right before you meet my family. Charlie, George, and Ron are the protective sort; they'll go ballistic."

Audrey chuckled and leaned in to kiss ach boy's cheek. "We wouldn't want that now, would we? Come on, my loves—let's get ready."

She left the room, his swaying, but Oliver stayed back for a moment. He took Percy in his arms and kissed him deeply.

"I love you, you know that? Protective siblings can't turn me off you—not even five of them."

Percy snorted, but nodded. "I love you, too."

Oliver buried his nose in Percy's hair and breathed in deeply. This, he thought, was the best ending that they could have had. He was so, so glad that life had brought him to this point.

And though Percy feared his family would come on too strong, Oliver had known the Weasleys for a long time; they cared a great deal about their son, and that endeared them to Oliver. He knew tonight would be brilliant.

He kissed Percy's brow. "Audrey's waiting," he whispered.

Percy laughed. "I suppose we'd better go before she gets impatient."

Oliver squeezed his shoulder and nodded. "Let's go."


	90. In the Name of Love

**A/N: Hey y'all! Enjoy some LuciusRegulus :3**

 **Word Count: 464**

 **WARNINGS: Kinda lovey? Not smutty tho. Also, angst**

 **Enjoy!**

Regulus gasped as he felt Lucius' lips ghost over his collarbone, and he arched his neck back, baring his throat. These were the moments he lived for, now: these moments where they were the only two people in the world, where the war didn't exist.

Regulus buried his fingers in Lucius' blond hair. The war. The Dark Lord. All those things were meaningless here, where he was desired, wanted—loved, maybe.

It had been so long since Regulus had been truly loved.

All too soon, though, Lucius was pulling away. Regulus shivered as the older man left him, leaving him without warmth. Regulus sat up, using his elbows to prop himself up on the mattress. He struggled to find his voice as he watched Lucius button his shirt back up.

"You" —his voice came out as a weak rasp, so he cleared his throat and tried again— "you don't have to leave."

Lucius glanced over, looking almost surprised. His blue eyes surveyed Regulus closely, as though trying to decide how to handle a delicate situation.

Regulus hated it. He wasn't fragile, and he didn't need anyone's pity—not even that of a lover's.

"I can't," Lucius said at last. He didn't offer an explanation.

And maybe Regulus should have just left it at that. Maybe he should have let Lucius leave and gone back to sleep, ready for the rendezvous the next week. But something about tonight made him reach out and grab Lucius' wrist.

"I don't" —Regulus swallowed dryly— "I don't want you to go."

Lucius' shoulders slumped. He approached the bed slowly, his blue eyes bright in the moonlight streaming through the window. He lifted his hand and caressed the younger man's cheek; Regulus thought he might melt under the touch.

"You know I can't. This is risky enough as it is." Lucius voice was rough, but he stroked Regulus' face tenderly. "We are at war. This isn't a game."

He was right; this wasn't a game. This was Regulus' heart Lucius held in his hands. Sometimes he cherished it; sometimes he tossed it from hand to hand carelessly. Regulus could never figure out how to make him see the truth of what he was holding.

He'd never given anyone his heart before, and Lucius didn't even know he possessed it.

"We're only players in his game," Regulus said instead. "Why not play one of our own?"

Lucius pulled back with a slight shake of his head. "That's a wish foolish enough to be a Gryffindor's."

Stung, Regulus pulled back. He didn't protest as Lucius finished dressing and slipped through the door. He waited until he heard the distinct crack of Apparition before burying his head in his pillow and wishing, for once, he didn't have to sacrifice so much to earn someone's love.


	91. Here With Me

**A/N: Hey y'all! Some quick Deamus for you. :)**

 **Word Count: 487**

 **Enjoy!**

Dean grunted as he rolled over in bed, his dark eyes squinting in the darkness. He was shivering slightly, and despite his tiredness he propped himself up on his elbows. He felt around blindly for the blankets—Merlin, had Seamus taken them _again?_ —and pulled the duvet from his lover with some difficulty.

"Bloody—Seamus," Dean gasped as the blanket finally came free. He quickly curled up with the duvet, tucking it under his legs and ribcage so the other man couldn't accidentally pull it loose in his sleep. Once he was satisfied, Dean closed his eyes, ready to let his boyfriend's steady breathing lull him back to sleep—

"Oi." Seamus flailed in bed, nearly smacking Dean in the face. "'S freezing. Where're the blankets?"

Dean glanced over at his boyfriend, unamused. "On top of you."

Seamus, slightly more awake now, sat up fully. He blinked. "Berk." He grabbed the blankets around Dean. "You're hogging them all, see? You've got the lot of them."

One of their dorm mates shifted, and both boys froze. Neville, Ron, and Harry all knew about their relationship and were fine with them sleeping in the same bed—not that it was their decision to make, Seamus always made sure to remind people—but Ron had been very clear on the stance that they were not to, under any circumstances, wake him.

Seamus, a fellow lover of sleep, had agreed to those terms.

After a moment, Seamus spoke again. "Here, let's untangle ourselves and then put the bloody thing over both of us equally. How does that sound?"

Dean shoved the other boy's shoulder. "Like you'll try to give yourself the bigger half."

Seamus threw his hands in the air, but there was a poorly concealed sheepish expression on his face that told Dean he'd been planning to do exactly that.

Dean laughed, then groped around for his wand so he could cast a hasty silencing charm. "Face it," he whispered to his lover, "I know you too well to fall for your tricks."

Seamus grinned, shark-like. "A shame, that. Means I can't surprise you anymore."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "You think you're funny."

Seamus shook his head slightly. "I think I'm hilarious."

Dean suddenly sprang on top of the other boy, pressing their lips fiercely together. He'd missed Seamus so much on his year-long run from the Death Eaters. Now the war was over, just a distant memory, and they could begin a new journey—together.

But that didn't mean he was going to let Seamus get his way.

While his boyfriend was distracting, Dean extracted the blanket from his grip and wrapped it around his own shoulders. In just a few moments, he had no doubt that Seamus would squawk indignantly and shove him off, but for now…

For now, Dean was warm.

o.O.o

"Hey Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm really glad you came back to me."

Dean snuggled into Seamus' side. "So am I."


	92. The Sun is Shining

**A/N: Hey y'all! Here's some Harry/Luna friendship for you. :)**

 **Word Count: 407**

 **WARNINGS: referenced kidnapping and war**

 **Enjoy!**

Harry watched Luna quietly from the porch. His close friend was crouching beside a turtle that had wandered into the Potters' yard, her fingers stroking its mottled shell with a feather-light touch. Her blonde hair spilled over her shoulders as she tilted her head to the side, entranced by the creature.

Harry smiled to himself, almost sadly. It had been three years since the war had ended; three years since Luna had been captured by Death Eaters. She hadn't been the same afterwards—when once she might have commented airily on beings that could only exist in her imagination, she now kept her lips firmly pressed together. That wonder hadn't left her, though; Harry had seen her doodling nargles and Crumple-Horned Snorkacks more than once.

Ginny had been devastated, feeling as though she'd lost a significant part of her best friend. Harry could understand Luna's preferences, though; talking wasn't always necessary. Sometimes silence spoke volumes.

Harry ran a hand through his unruly black hair, exhaling slowly. He made his way through the tall grass—Ginny would be getting on him about cutting it soon, he was sure—and knelt beside Luna and the turtle. The two friends watched it in silence for a minute.

Eventually, Harry cleared his throat. "It's getting a bit late. Do you want to come in, or would you rather be out here with your new friend?" He gestured to the reptile with a grin; the turtle, in turn, bobbed its head up and down.

Luna settled herself more firmly in the grass. Harry nodded.

"Right. Mind if I send James out, then? He loves spending time with you. He'll liked the turtle, too."

Luna bobbed her head in consent, a serene smile on her face. Harry got to his feet and held his hand out to Luna, palm up; she placed her hand in his and squeezed before dropping it again.

He took a few steps away from her, and his ears managed to pick up her melodic voice, singing softly to the turtle. He recognized this habit from their school days, and a find smile spread across his lips. After a moment, Harry headed back across the yard, and right before he went back inside, he looked back at Luna. Her wand was tucked behind her ear, and the familiar radish earrings were glinting in the sunlight.

Yes. She was still Luna, and he was so glad that she was still there with him.


	93. Hands Intertwined

**A/N: Hey y'all! Some Harry and Molly bonding for you. The pairing is HarryCedricCho, so if that bothers you, you may want to skip this chapter.**

 **Word Count: 607**

 **Enjoy!**

Molly watched Errol swoop clumsily through the kitchen window, brown feathers flying everywhere. The old owl crashed into the jam by Harry plate, feebly sticking out a leg for Harry to untie.

The green-eyed boy's face flushed with pleasure when he read who the letter was from and quickly excused himself from the breakfast table for privacy. Molly bit her lip when she saw Ron and Hermione lean in to discuss his behavior.

"I'm telling you, Hermione, it must be from Cho! He's never talked about liking anyone else."

"Oh, and you think that because he's never told you about them, he hasn't ever liked anyone other than Cho Chang?"

"Merlin's beard, Hermione. Harry isn't in love with Cedric Diggory."

"They've been spending an awful lot of time together since the maze in fourth year, haven't they?"

"What—? Harry saved his life! I reckon that's enough to turn anyone friends."

Molly walked over, pretending that she hadn't heard a word of their conversation. "And just what are you two getting up to, then?"

Hermione turned a bit pink while Ron shrugged a little too quickly. "Nothing," he muttered. "Talking."

Molly raised an eyebrow. "Well, I can see that. Eat up, both of you; the food's getting cold." She set a fresh plate of bacon on the table and walked off, mentally shaking her head at their foolishness.

Molly tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear and set off in the direction Harry had disappeared, right after feeding Errol bits of bacon. It was clear that Harry wasn't comfortable speaking with Ron and Hermione about his love life, but Molly was there to make sure he knew her house was a safe environment.

Fabian, too, used to take more than one lover.

Molly knocked on Harry's door. "Dear?" she called. "Can I come in?"

There was some scrambling, then Harry's voice could be heard. "Yes, Mrs. Weasley!"

Molly cracked open the door, sending the eighteen-year-old a smile. "It's Molly, dear," she reminded him gently. She walked over and pulled out a desk chair, sitting down. She looked pointedly over at his pillow, where some letters had been hastily stuffed. "I hope you're hiding those because they're private, not because it's some sort of hateful drivel—"

"Oh, no!" Harry shook his head so quickly his glasses nearly slipped off his nose. "No, they're just… private."

He glanced away, then, his face burning. Molly was a self-confessed romantic, and her heart swelled when she saw the young boy so obviously pleased about what she assumed were love letters.

Molly reached over and took his hand in hers. "Hermione thinks it's Cedric Diggory," she murmured, "and Ron thinks it's Cho Chang."

"Oh," Harry spluttered. "Erm—it's—well—"

"You don't have to tell me," Molly interrupted. "But I did want to show you this."

From the pocket of her apron, Molly pulled out a photograph. She tended to keep pictures there—mostly of loved ones—but this one depicted Fabian and two men, each holding up their hands to wave and show off matching gold rings.

"This is my brother," she told Harry fondly. "Fabian."

She heard Harry's breath catch in his throat. "Are they his—"

"Lovers," Molly supplied. "Yes. They couldn't be married officially, but… well, to us they were." She looked up, her brown eyes meeting Harry's green ones. "There's no judgement in this house, dear."

Harry took a shuddering breath in. "I…"

"Shhh." Molly patted his hand, then stood up and kissed his temple. "You don't need to tell me anything, Harry. I just wanted you to know… just in case."

He offered her a tired, relieved smile, and Molly happily returned it.


	94. All the Luck in the World

**A/N: Hey y'all! Here's some WolfStarBucks for you to enjoy.**

 **Word Count: 315**

 **Note: Very much an AU**

 **Enjoy!**

Remus sighed contentedly as Sirius' ivory fingers carded through his hair, easing his headache. He closed his amber eyes, marveling at the fact that he was here, alive, with his two lovers by his side.

He wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve such luck, but he wasn't going to question it.

Warm lips were pressed to his temple, and Remus turned his head slightly to see James smiling down at him.

"Hey, Moony," James said softly, pushing up his glasses. "How are you feeling?"

The full moon had been the previous night, and even though all three men were pushing fifty, Remus found that he was quite happy, despite the pain that came with old age. "Much better," he said honestly. "You two always manage to make it bearable."

James squeezed his hand. Remus knew that both men were terrified that they would lose him one month (a werewolf never lived long), but to be perfectly honest, Remus wasn't sure how his life could get any better.

Sirius let out a low, rumbling laugh from behind him. "Good. If we didn't know how to do that by now, we'd be in a right state."

Remus laughed weakly. "Don't worry about that, Pads." A headache was forming, so he closed his eyes. "Mmm. I might sleep for a bit, if the two of you don't mind."

"Of course we don't," James said immediately. "Are you sure we can't get you anything?"

"I'm sure," Remus said sternly, fighting the urge to laugh. "You both enjoy your night, okay? I'll be fine in bed alone."

Sirius clucked his tongue. "Nice try. I'm not leaving. How about you, James?"

"Not a chance," James replied easily. "Budge up, love. I'll take a nap, too."

Wrapped in his lovers' arms as he drifted off to sleep, Remus knew, without a doubt, that he was the luckiest man in the world.


	95. All of These Stars

**A/N: Hey y'all! Some Wolfstar for you. Soldier!AU :)**

 **Word Count: 442**

 **Warnings: War imagery**

 **Enjoy!**

"What's that one?"

Remus' voice was hushed, as to not wake the other men of their unit up. He looked over at Sirius, his amber eyes glowing in the darkness. He tilted his head at Sirius, waiting for an answer.

Sirius was happy to give it. "Aldebaran," he answered, voice barely above a whisper. "It's part of Orion's Belt."

Remus hummed with interest. Sirius watched him closely. There was tawny stubble on his jaw, a result of being unable to shave for the past couple of days. Sirius knew Remus hated have hair on his face, but he couldn't help but find it attractive. It certainly made kissing the other man more interesting.

Not that there wasn't plenty to keep his attention when he was at war.

Remus pointed up at the sky, bravely stretching his arm into the darkness. "What about that one?"

Sirius glanced up and chuckled softly. "That's Sirius, of course."

"Oh." Remus laughed lightly. "Of course. I should have known." He glanced at Sirius, almost shyly. "It's the brightest star in the sky."

Sirius' breath caught in his throat. "Remus," he murmured slowly, his grey eyes darting around, "when this is over… when the war has ended and we get to go home…"

Remus waited with baited breath. "Yes?"

"Will you stay with me, then?" Sirius croaked, mortified by his own daring but determined not to show it. "We could get a place together, with a balcony. And every night we could go out and look at the stars."

Remus' scarred face twisted as he smiled. "Through a polluted sky and the haze of city lights?" His hand found Sirius' and laced their fingers together. "That sounds perfect."

Sirius rolled over onto his side, so he could better face the other man. They'd been through so much together already; blood and gunshots, hours of mindless walking and days of terrified silence. And death. So much death. Sirius wasn't sure if he would ever be rid of the adrenaline that coursed through his veins—or the cold that chilled his blood.

Remus, perhaps sensing his thoughts, pulled him closer. Sirius melted into the touch, reminded of the reason why he was still sane; the reason he was still fighting.

He glanced back up at the sky. "Make a wish," he whispered.

Remus looked up and scoffed lightly. "There isn't a shooting star," he teased.

Sirius' grip on Remus' hand tightened. "We don't need one. Do it anyway."

Remus looked thoughtful as he closed his eyes and wished. Sirius didn't need to make one of his own; having Remus beside him was enough.

He only hoped they would stay that way.


	96. Diamonds

**A/N: Hey y'all! Now, DracoHermione is an NOTP of mine (don't hurt me), but... *shrugs* Here we are.**

 **Word Count: 394**

 **Enjoy!**

Noon really wasn't a romantic time: it was unbearably hot during the summer months, the lighting wasn't ethereal, and nothing magical ever seemed to occur. There was no mystery about noon, only fact.

But Hermione rather thought that she didn't need candlelight or a fancy dinner—not when Draco was pink in the face, holding out a diamond ring and looking as though he'd completely forgotten to get down on one knee.

Hermione blinked down at the object between his pale fingers, her brain not quite making the connection that, oh yes, this was indeed a marriage proposal. She didn't know for sure, but she had a feeling that it was highly irregular to 'pop the question' while in the midst of a very public argument.

Hermione pushed some of her bushy brown hair away from her face, the frizz even worse than usual because of the humidity, and frowned at the Slytherin. They'd come a long way since the war, yes—ten years did that to a person—but sometimes Draco still caught her completely off guard.

"What's this, then?" she asked. She could feel a blush rising to her cheeks as some of the people on the street turned to look.

Draco cleared his throat, surprised that she'd stopped chewing him out for being significantly late to yet another date of theirs, like he hadn't expected a ring to silence her shouts. His grey eyes locked onto her brown ones, and he scoffed lightly in an attempt to regain his usual composure.

It was then that Hermione knew he hadn't actually intended to propose. It might have been the only reckless thing he'd done in his life, and the thought made her lips twitch.

"Why, Granger," he drawled, "I'd have thought you'd recognize a ring when you saw it. You don't have trouble identifying much else."

Hermione's eyes didn't leave the stone. "This is why you've been so late?"

"I'm not _Weasley_. I can forgive my own tardiness once, but I'm not sloppy enough to arrive late to a date continuously—"

Hermione put a finger to his lips and cocked an eyebrow. "I want to hear you say it," she whispered.

He gulped, but didn't deny her. "Will you marry me?" he asked softly.

A smile blossomed across her features. She leaned forward to brush her lips against his. "I think I can do that."


	97. The Little Moments

**A/N: Hey y'all! Some ViktorBill for you. :)**

 **Word Count: 424**

 **Enjoy!**

"Mmm." Bill grinned lazily as Viktor's finger skillfully massaged his aching back. "This is nice."

Viktor's low chuckle sounded behind him. "I thought you vould like it."

Bill reached up and pulled his long red hair over one shoulder so it wouldn't get in his partner's way. He absentmindedly untangled his fang earring from the red strands. "You know, I would've tried for that promotion long ago, if I knew this is what I'd get in return."

Viktor swatted the back of his head, and Bill squawked indignantly. "You better not think I vill make a habit of this," the younger man warned, but there wasn't any bite to his voice. "And you really should be more careful at vork, you know."

Bill twisted around to look at him skeptically. "I'm a _curse breaker,_ love," he reminded him. "Safety isn't really part of the game."

Viktor looked like he was about to protest, but then seemed to recall the number of times his nose had been broken from stray bludgers and fell silent. If there was one thing Viktor understood, it was a dangerous game.

So Viktor Krum gently forced his shoulders down. "Lie still," he commanded gruffly. Under his breath he muttered, "You vill be the death of me, I'm sure."

Bill grinned into the mattress. After a few minutes of contented silence, Bill spoke up again.

"Our anniversary is in two days. Three years, can you believe it?"

Bill couldn't see them, but he was sure Viktor's dark eyes were glittering. "It is strange," he agreed. "It does not seem like it has been so long."

Bill hummed in agreement. "Mum'll be so pleased. You don't mind popping in to say hi, right? Maybe stay for lunch?"

Viktor released Bill's shoulders and moved so he was kneeling on the floor in front of his lover. "I love your family," he reminded Bill. Then he smirked mischievously, and if Bill hadn't been lying down already his knees would have given out at the sight. "Especially your youngest brother."

Bill grabbed a pillow and slammed it into Viktor's face, a loud laugh escaping him. It had been mortifying at the time to realize that Ron had once crushed on his brother's new boyfriend, but now, years later, only Ron turned beet red at the tale.

Viktor picked himself up off the ground and cupped Bill's jaw with his hands. "I love you, Bill Veasley."

Bill grinned and leaned forward until their noses were almost touching. "I love you, too," he purred, and kissed him.


	98. Bend (Until You Snap)

**A/N: Hey y'all! Written for Hogwarts.**

 **Word Count: 352**

 **Enjoy!**

She watched Potter's brow crease, furrowing ever farther down. There was a sparkle in her eyes as she watched his try so hard to mask his pain—but she could see his suffering.

Dolores settled her plump, heavily-ringed fingers in her lap. Potter's green eyes flitted up briefly to see if she was looking, but just as quickly glanced down again. It all happened so quickly, it might not have happened at all. But Dolores knew better.

Excitement coursed through her. She had power over Potter. The Chosen One. She was more powerful than the Chosen One.

The thought was exhilarating.

Dolores closed her eyes briefly. She'd worked her entire life for her position in the Ministry, while all Potter had had to do to achieve his fame was survive by pure luck—

Dolores took in a shuddering breath. It was okay, she reminded herself. By the end of the night, Potter would know that he'd never been anything special. He'd been lucky once, but that luck couldn't last forever.

She was in charge.

The hours went by. Dolores let him write the words over and over again, familiar to him by now: _I must not tell lies._

His hand grew shakier every time he restarted the sentence, a result of the pain, no doubt. It made for very thick, ropey scars. Dolores knew that from experience. When his hand began bleeding freely, a smile stretched her lips. Yes. This was good. The message could sink in now.

When it was nearly one in the morning, Dolores waved her hand at the boy, as though he'd been there for only a few minutes and not several hours.

"You may go now, Potter," she said sweetly. "Don't forget, you have two more detentions left this week."

He carefully set down the quill, mindful not to give her a reaction. What he didn't understand was that act of rebellion—that was all the reaction she needed.

This wasn't his first detention, and it wouldn't be his last. He wasn't broken yet, but he would be one day. And she would be the one to break him.


	99. Try Me

**A/N: Hey y'all! Have some AlbusScorpius. :)**

 **Word Count: 703**

 **Enjoy!**

"Don't come any closer, Potter, I'm warning you!"

Scorpius' voice rang out in the near silence of the empty classroom, but Albus didn't open the door. His green eyes bore into Scorpius' grey.

"Potter? We're on a surname basis now?"

Scorpius turned away from the dark-haired boy, his shoulders hunched. "Well, why not? Everyone thinks we should be."

Albus crossed the room slowly, approaching the other fifteen-year-old with a frown on his face. "Scorpius…"

"Go away, Potter."

"This really isn't like you." Albus was clenching and unclenching his fists as fear swept over him; he only had one friend in the world, and now that friend was writing him off for reasons Albus didn't understand. "Talk to me, please!"

"What the hell is it about 'go away' that you don't understand?!" Scorpius whipped around, then, one hand hidden behind his back and the other holding a steady wand—which was pointing straight at Albus.

Albus stopped, his eyes trained on the wand. He lifted his hands slowly in a placating gesture. His face gave away nothing, but his voice shook when he spoke.

"You're not going to hex me, Scorpius."

"Who says I'm not?" Scorpius' eyes were wild, and Albus felt his heart breaking. "Do you think I won't? You're wrong. I can, and I will."

"I know." Albus was struggling to reign in his temper; this was Scorpius, not some family member who looked at him oddly with a frozen, carefully polite smile. Scorpius had never treated him like an outcast. Scorpius had always been there for him, even when Albus had thought he'd prefer to be alone.

So Albus wouldn't leave Scorpius. Not without a fight.

"Mate. I know you could hex me. I've partnered with you in class before; I'm fully aware of the damage you can do with your wand." Albus took a small step forward, and to his relief, Scorpius didn't move. "But I don't think you're going to hex me."

"Try me," Scorpius growled, in a voice most unlike his own. "Just _try me_ , Potter."

Albus held the blond boy's gaze for a few moments before he pulled out his own wand. A glint of triumph appeared in Scorpius' eyes—before it promptly disappeared when Albus threw down his wand.

"Hex me, then." Albus' voice was quiet. "I won't stop you."

For the first time, Scorpius' hand trembled. "You're in idiot."

Albus made a sound of protest. "That's James, thanks."

The Malfoy heir didn't respond. He just stared at Albus, waiting and watching. Finally, he lowered his wand.

"I…" There were tears in Scorpius' eyes, and his voice was choked. "I'm sorry. I… Merlin, Albus, I'm so sorry."

Albus didn't hesitate. He ran the rest of the way to Scorpius and tugged the taller boy into a fierce embrace. "It's okay," he murmured. "It's okay. What happened?"

Scorpius closed his eyes. "Dad. He… his father is getting out of prison, and coming over. Dad wants us to pretend that everything is pureblood and perfect." Bitterness tinged those words. "But I was thinking about what you said last night. Al, if we do this… he's going to hate us. Our families are going to hate us."

Albus' cheeks warmed. He'd confessed his feelings last night, only to have Scorpius tell him he needed time to think about where he wanted to take their relationship. Albus had been happy to give it, but the thought that an old Death Eater might be influencing his friend filled Albus with dread.

"Lucius and Narcissa might," Albus admitted. "But your dad… he isn't like them anymore. And my parents like you enough. Teddy and Lily think you're great, and James is just a tosser about anyone wanting to date Lily or me."

That drew a laugh out of Scorpius. "Maybe you're right," he said weakly. After a moment, he added, "You really think my dad won't mind?"

Albus considered his words carefully. "I think that he loves you more than he cares about those ideals."

Slowly, Scorpius nodded. Then he cracked a small smile. "Guess there's no scaring you away, huh?"

Albus grinned. "Definitely not."

He laced their fingers together hesitantly. When Scorpius didn't pull away, Albus let some of his fear slip away.


	100. A Brighter Day

**A/N: Hey y'all! Some Lucissa.**

 **Word Count: 307**

 **Enjoy!**

Lucius waved his hand to dismiss the Healer, who appeared slightly disgruntled. From the bed, Narcissa rolled her eyes at her husband.

"Let them do their job, Lucius," she reprimanded lightly. She brushed some blond hair away from her face, then smiled at him. "Now, come here. Come see our son."

Lucius stared at her for a moment, unsure. He'd never been taught how to act in this situation, in the birth of his child. But they had an heir, now. The thought was astounding.

Lucius walked towards the bed slowly.

Narcissa looked exhausted, but just as beautiful as ever. There was sweat on her brow, and dark bags beneath her eyes, but her smile was radiant as she stared down at the bundle in her arms.

Lucius bent down to look at Draco Hyperion Malfoy.

There was a tuft of blond hair on the boy's head, a stark contrast to the dark red of the baby's face. His little fists were clenched tightly, and his toothless mouth opened and closed silently. Lucius felt his heart quicken, which only used to happen when he looked upon his wife.

Merlin. He'd thought, maybe, that he could keep a cold distance like his father had with him, but he knew already that it would be impossible. This was more than his heir.

This was his son.

"I love him," Narcissa said breathlessly.

"Yes," Lucius agreed, entranced. "So… so do I."

He bent forwards to press a kiss against the babe's impossibly smooth skin, and felt his lips curve upwards. This was his family.

He had a real family.

Lucius turned to press his lips against Narcissa's, laughter bubbling up inside him, which was ridiculous, because Lucius Malfoy didn't laugh.

Until now, it seemed.

He glanced down at his son once more. Draco Malfoy, a great wizard in the making.


End file.
